Firefox: a Fox Demon's Claim

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  Her body suddenly went rigid with tension and a choked gasp erupted from her. She fisted a handful of his hair, her back arched as he sucked deeply. The stirring power within her started to flow into him. He welcomed it and pushed his own mana into her, little by little releasing her sealed, sacred power.

  She bucked against him when he teased the crown of her nipple with the tip of his tongue. As he suspected, she was very sensitive. He released her nipple and gently painted her breast with his saliva. He grazed his teeth against her flesh, aching to mark her as his.

  But not yet. Not until her power was freed.

  She looked down at him and their gazes clashed. He saw pure lust in her eyes. Burning. She wanted him as much he wanted her. He clenched his jaw. There was nothing on this mortal plane that could separate them. Wherever she went, he’d follow.

  Just as he slipped down the other strap of her bra, something chimed. Sparrow lifted his head, his fox ears already poking through his hair, turning to catch the sound.

  Ding-dong.

  Chloe breathed heavily, her mouth fallen open into an O. “Doorbell,” she whispered. When it came a few more times, as if the person pressing the buzzer were impatient, she pushed aside and rose, buttoning her blouse and straightening her clothes. She went to answer the door. Sparrow followed.

  “Um…” She pointed as his head.

  “Oh.” He cast his glamour on. He watched her, staying a few feet behind her. He was eager to find out who was ringing the bell, pondering whether he should put a curse on that unfortunate creature that dared disturb their intimate moment.

  He hissed through his teeth as he mentally doused the burning lust inside him. He found himself becoming irritated. Maybe he should kill the person. The insolent ingrate. Though his goddess might not approve of him killing humans for small offenses. He glanced down at himself and adjusted his erection to try to make it less obvious.

  Chloe opened the door, and Sparrow had to peek to see outside. Because the moment she opened it, he felt the air in the room change. The bond between him and his goddess was established. The dark feelings that ran through her also seeped into him.

  He went alert. Uneasy.

  Whomever was at the door was not a welcome sight. He started to glide to his goddess to deal with that unwelcomed visitor but she motioned him to stay put.

  He didn’t like it but the goddess order was absolute.

  “Carla,” Chloe gasped. “How did you—”

  “Find you? It wasn’t that hard, Chloe.”

  Chloe didn’t invite her in. Her demeanor changed drastically. “This is unexpected. Is there something you want?”

  “You know what I want, but in case you haven’t picked up on it in all these years, I’ll state it clearly. I want you to stay the hell away from my son.”

  The speaker had a slight lilt to her voice. Accented. He became curious. Leaning slightly, he peeked through the front window’s blinds. That audacious creature was a middle-aged, haughty-looking human female. Her carefully coiffed blonde hair was tightly styled beneath a small, round hat in the same deep blue as her expensive-looking clothes. Everything about her said she was wealthy and particular. The iciness in her voice, the negativity she sent into the house, said that she was probably a royal bitch.

  “Carla, I’ve been trying to stay away from him for years, which is why you’ve come all these miles to see me. I left town. I changed my number, tried to make myself hard to follow. He keeps looking for me.”

  The woman named Carla huffed derisively. “I never wanted you to marry my Norman. You were never good enough. I don’t know why he still wants you after…everything. I’ll do everything in my power to keep him away from you.”

  “Good!” The frustration in Chloe’s voice prompted Sparrow to step out and make his way toward the door.

  “But if he finds you, don’t you dare let him charm you into getting back together,” Carla warned.

  Chloe laughed bitterly. “I don’t find anything about Norman remotely charming.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want my bloodline sullied with the likes of yours. He wouldn’t have spent the last decade in prison if you hadn’t made him chase you.”

  Chloe flinched as if she was slapped with an invisible palm. “You know what your son did to me. I ran to protect myself. He tried to run me down with his car, for God’s sake.”

  “Norman is a gentle soul. It’s you who turned him into what he is now. Stay away from my son.”

  “Gladly! You don’t have to twist my arm for it.”

  “Good!”

  Chloe slammed the door and slammed her back against it. Sparrow wanted to teach that woman a lesson, but she was gone. The woman shouted a few things he couldn’t make out as she walked away.

  “What are you doing?” Chloe asked.

  “I was going to punish her for insulting you.”

  “You’re not my guardian.”

  “But I am.”

  Chloe sighed, and Sparrow realized she was trembling. He pulled her into his arms. “I’m here for you, remember?”

  Her arms wrapped around him, and her cheek rested against the front of his shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “At least let me set her hair on fire?”

  Chloe laughed, but it choked off in a sob. Sparrow touched her hair and cradled her against him, and let her cry as long as she wanted.

  Chapter 9

  That horrible bitch.

  Chloe leaned against Sparrow, grateful that he wasn’t telling her to stop crying or urging her to calm down. He simply let her be, and that meant more than he realized.

  It was bad enough that Carla Greyson had shown up at her door. Had she really come that many miles just to threaten Chloe to stay away from her son? Maybe she had another reason to travel, and Chloe had been had been a pit-stop.

  Hell, maybe she would actually be able to get through to Norman and convince him to leave Chloe alone if she was that dead-set on making sure they stayed apart.

  If Chloe thought Carla could actually manage it, she might have dropped to her knees and begged her to convince him to stay away. But acting as if Chloe wanted anything to do with him after all this time, that was beyond the pale. Chloe never wanted to see any of them again, least of all Norman.

  I don’t want my bloodline sullied with the likes of yours.

  Chloe clung to Sparrow tighter, rage starting to overtake her despair. Her father had been the gardener for the Greysons, and they’d seemed to like him well enough. After he died, they certainly hadn’t hesitated to offer her a home. Carla had been kind to her when she’d first moved in, though she was cool and aloof. They never got close. And it hadn’t taken very long before Chloe realized that the woman was jealous of the attention her son gave to Chloe.

  Once she’d figured that out, she knew to be wary of Carla and not trust her for a second.

  But when Chloe had lost the baby, Carla had merely patted her shoulder and said, “Perhaps it’s for the best, dear.” She’d never once asked Chloe how she was after, or checked on her to see if she was coping. She’d never brought up the baby again, despite how that was all Norman ever seemed to think about.

  And now that Chloe thought about it, before her miscarriage Carla had never taken much of an interest in it. She’d had no sympathy for Carla’s horrible morning sickness, declaring that her pregnancy with Norman had been the happiest time of her life and she wasn’t nauseous for even a moment.

  Chloe had felt almost like a failure at being pregnant when Carla talked about how easy her pregnancy was, how she glowed and had never felt healthier. It hadn’t occurred to Chloe at the time, but thinking back now—Carla had been gloating.

  I don’t want my bloodline sullied with the likes of yours.

  Her cold comfort after the miscarriage all those years ago took on a new edge. Chloe had thought she was merely disinterested at the time because she was so jealous of Norman. Now with her horrible crack about her bloodline, it seemed that maybe she’d been happ
y that Chloe had lost the baby.

  Her breath hitched, and she wished she’d let Sparrow zap the old bitch but good.

  Chloe lifted her face and sniffed, looking into Sparrow’s emerald eyes and his kind half-smile. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping tears away.

  If Carla hadn’t interrupted them, Chloe would have let him have her right there on her couch. She’d never reacted to anyone’s touch quite that way. Right now they’d probably be curled together on the couch, sleepy from their orgasms, not standing there while Chloe cried for all the things she’d lost.

  “I think I want a shower now,” she whispered. She wanted to wash Carla’s visit away, scrub until she felt clean again, maybe try to scrub the thoughts of Norman and Carla and the years she’d wasted from her mind and watch them swirl down the drain.

  Sparrow nodded. “Whatever you wish, my goddess.” He kissed her closed eyelids. “Would you like my assistance?”

  Chloe managed to smile. “No, thank you.”

  “Very well. I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

  Chloe nodded and trudged into the bathroom. When she closed the door she hesitated a moment stuck between leaving it unlocked or locked. Did she trust Sparrow? She thought she did, even though everything he’d said and showed her seemed so unreal.

  But nobody had ever been so attentive to her. And he’d slept naked with her in the same bed without taking advantage of her drunkenness. She’d thought she woke feeling curiously clean and normal.

  Sparrow was trustworthy, even if he was a bit crazy and she was losing her mind to believe him. Perhaps the most trustworthy man she’d known.

  But Carla’s face, Norman’s voicemail… Chloe locked the door, and it felt like a defeat.

  The tears came before she’d even managed to turn on the water.

  Chapter 10

  Nothing hurt him like his lady’s pain. He’d suffered during the trials and the competitions, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. The physical strain of the contests sometimes hurt, but the thought that he might fail was a great mental strain. And the thought that his Gaia could end up in the arms of another, never even knowing he existed, that was almost enough to break Sparrow a time or two. He’d had to win. There was no other option.

  None of that pain was a fraction as awful as what he experienced now, his goddess’ pain seeping into his own mind and heart.

  When he heard the water come on and knew he had at least a few minutes before she would be finished, Sparrow sat on the couch and crossed his legs, letting everything clear from his mind but Chloe’s pain and the woman who had just caused so much of it.

  He kept part of his consciousness in Chloe’s living room, so that he could snap back into himself if she unexpectedly needed him for anything. Otherwise, he’d be fully back before she was finished.

  Sparrow reached out with his mind, his power, searching for the vile woman who’d just been at Chloe’s door. Chloe might not approve of what he was doing, so…he simply wouldn’t tell her.

  What was the point of being a half-demon fox if he couldn’t make a little mischief now and then?

  He saw her blue hat first, and the pale yellow spray of flowers on one side. As he got closer, he focused on those silk flowers and let his lightning coil outward to barely brush one petal.

  The woman flinched as if he’d slapped her. She stood next to a long, black limousine, a man in a suit with the black driver’s cap holding the door open for her. She’d either just stepped out or was about to step in.

  “Ma’am?” the driver said.

  “I’m fine, Bernard. Just a sudden chill.” She didn’t smile at him. He was clearly beneath her.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He closed the door as she took a few steps away from the car. Sparrow widened his view—she was about to go into a huge stone building with a large red awning. A bank.

  Sparrow followed her inside, and took in the man who rushed to greet her in his tailored suit, his upper lip slightly damp with sweat. He was intimidated by this woman.

  That would make what Sparrow was about to do even more fun.

  He let his power coil out again to touch her hat. She gasped and spun, looking around for whatever had startled her.

  “Mrs. Greyson? Are you—”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s just get down to business. I want to cash out a number of CDs and…”

  Sparrow didn’t worry about following their conversation. He wasn’t interested. He followed the woman into the bank manager’s office, and once she sat, Sparrow extended his power and touched her on both shoulders.

  She bolted up from her chair with a shout. The manager rushed around his desk.

  “What’s going on here?” she shouted while the manager tried to find some explanation. When she explained the shock she’d gotten, and he tried to say that maybe it was static electricity, she looked around and pointed out the marble floor and the leather chair.

  “Where exactly would static build up?” she said, her voice harsh. She plopped into the chair in a most unladylike way, as if frustration had stripped away her social graces. “Can we just handle these CDs as quickly as possible?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Greyson. I have the paperwork ready as you asked.”

  Sparrow was patient, though his fox was doing somersaults, eager for the finale. When she started signing page after page of documents, Sparrow gently uncoiled heat and flame and brushed the pale-yellow flower on her hat so gently, that she didn’t flinch. She tilted her head for a moment, but went back to signing.

  And then he waited for the spark to catch hold.

  “Mrs. Greyson!” The manager rounded the desk and tried to bat the burning hat off her head, but she apparently had it hair-pinned in place. Every tug pulled at her and made her yelp. The top of the hat caught fire from the flowers, but she was more worried about the man trying to pull her hair out by the roots, batting at his hands and screaming while he shouted “fire, fire!” in an attempt to get someone to help him.

  Sparrow hoped someone pulled out a fire extinguisher and sprayed her right in the face.

  She finally felt the heat or otherwise realized what was happening and started screaming, smacking at her own head to put out the flames.

  Sparrow set her tiny black purse on fire. It was too good to resist.

  By the time the manager had wrenched the hat free of her hair and put it out, another bank employee was stomping her purse in an effort to put out the flames, and she stood there with her arms outstretched, black mascara streaking her cheeks.

  Before Sparrow left, he hovered near the ceiling and let his heat coil around the fire safety sensor.

  The woman screamed again as the alarm blared and the sprinkler system in the bank came on, drenching everyone.

  His fox rolled on its back, yapping happily. Sparrow returned to his body, just in time to catch the shower turning off.

  He went into the kitchen to see about making his goddess some lunch. Food often helped the moods of the people on earth, and until they’d consummated their union and restored her power, perhaps it would help her feel better, too.

  Chapter 11

  The shower helped.

  The bone-deep cry she had in the shower helped.

  And despite what Chloe might have believed just a handful of hours ago, the stranger with fox ears and a bird’s name in her living room helped, too.

  Something about him really was comforting, there was no point in denying that. And as upset and lost as Chloe felt at the moment, she wasn’t going to refuse that gift. She needed someone to give a damn about her for a change, no matter what kind of powers he came with or what he claimed about her.

  Deep down, you might even believe him.

  He had fox ears he could pop in and out at will, and some kind of fiery power deep inside him. More things she couldn’t deny. So why was anything else wild and crazy he said so much more unlikely to be true?

  She put on her bathrobe, combed through her long, wet hair and stepp
ed out into the hall, the smell of coffee making her mouth water. When she walked through the doorway to the kitchen, she noticed movement. Sparrow was busy pulling things out of her refrigerator—he was making sandwiches.

  “Do you feel better?” he asked as she watched him.

  “I do, thank you.”

  “You need to eat, too. I was going to try to cook something, but—”

  “I only really had lunchmeat and cheese. Haven’t been to the grocery store in a few days.”

  “Well,” he said, sticking a toothpick through half a pickle and pinning it to the top of a sandwich, “I made do with what you had.”

  She sat on one of the stools, admiring the graceful, fluid way he moved around her kitchen. He really was…lovely. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

  His face fell. “But you must eat and get some nutrition into your body, especially after all the imbibing last night.”

  “Didn’t you take care of that when you did the…” She touched the center of her forehead. “The zappy thing?”

  “I made you feel better with some mild healing, yes. But it’s far better to not neglect yourself, Gaia.”

  He pushed a plate in front of her with a thick sandwich and a pickle toothpicked to the top. Chloe wondered if he’d eaten one like that or had seen pictures of deli sandwiches made that way. He seemed unfamiliar with a lot of things, like how he’d never tasted alcohol, but he knew coffee and sandwiches, it seemed. She peeled back a corner of bread to see that he’d slathered on plenty of mayo, just the way she liked it.

  “Thank you.” she said. He pushed a cup of coffee toward her and leaned close, watching. So Chloe picked up the sandwich and took a big bite. He smiled and went to retrieve his own sandwich and cup.