Chapter 36
“This is a terrible idea,” Elle informed me. “You can’t even drive.”
I leaned back against the heated, leather seat on the passenger side of the vehicle, trying to ignore how disloyal I felt taking the car Gunner had bought me while making my escape. Glancing back over my shoulder, I assured myself that Yuki and Oyo were sleeping. Then I countered, “I can drive. You just wouldn’t let me behind the wheel.”
“Because you look like death. You do realize Gunner will feel exactly like you do when he wakes up and finds you missing?”
No, I hadn’t realized that. Somehow, I’d assumed the pain of mating then leaving would all be mine to bear. The knowledge that Gunner would deal with the same sort of agony started my head pounding as if Kira were using my skull as her own personal drum.
“Can I protect him by breaking the mate bond?” I didn’t even manage to finish the question since the last word stuck in my throat like the fifth cracker swallowed without a sip of water in between.
Rather than answering immediately, Elle glanced at me sideways, the dark, empty highway giving her leeway to divide her attention as she drove. “Do you want to?”
Yes, of course I did. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life getting used to this pain, nor did I want to subject Gunner to the same agony.
And yet, the word that came out of my mouth—this time crackerless and adamant—was: “No.”
“There’s your answer.”
For another half hour, the car rolled down the highway in silence, road noise dulled by the cocoon of comfort Gunner had paid top dollar for. Eventually, the warmth of the leather started feeling like Gunner’s body spooning me. And I was halfway asleep when his half-sister spoke once again.
“Maybe we can come up with a compromise before we get there. You and Kira dividing your time between your grandmother’s estate and Atwood clan central. Or we could find something else the old woman covets....”
“Elle, stop it.” She meant well, but every time I was reminded of my situation another wave of pain racked my body. And now I was starting to wonder whether my friend would betray my location after she returned with Kira, giving Gunner a roadmap to walk straight into a powerful kitsune’s lair.
That couldn’t happen. I could leave him—just barely. But I couldn’t be responsible for further injury or death. “You have to promise not to tell your brother—either brother—where I’m going,” I demanded, my voice so harsh Yuki turned over on the back seat.
“What if...?” Elle started.
But I shushed her in the werewolf way, with a hand laid gently on her forearm. “Elle, promise.”
And, after one long moment of silence, my friend agreed.
***
We were five minutes tardy when the gate opened up before us despite there being no human operator visible. Snow had melted off the road, so the approach to Sakurako’s mansion was easy to navigate. Within moments, Elle had pulled up beside the multi-colored fountain, then she and I glanced at each other in a sudden unity of thought.
We did not want to get out of that car.
Yuki, on the other hand, was glad to return to his mistress. He opened the back door with alacrity...and before any of us knew what was happening, Oyo had slipped between his legs and escaped.
“Grab her!” I yelled, scrambling to follow my own order. Without the fox, I had nothing to trade for Kira. And despite Oyo’s leash spinning out behind her, we three resembled a circus act as we futilely tumbled over each other in the haste of our pursuit.
Only our clownishness was irrelevant because...
“Going somewhere?”
The elderly kitsune appeared out of nowhere inches in front of Oyo’s nose. How had I ever thought of Sakurako as a little old lady? Now she towered above her former apprentice, magic buzzing like insects as Oyo’s feet literally froze to the ground.
The four-legger yelped as she tried—and failed—to free them. But Sakurako’s attention had already moved on to spear me as I pulled myself up out of the slush pile that seemed to have been placed there for the sole purpose of soaking my clothes.
“And you,” she continued. “You are late.”
“Where’s Kira?” With an effort, I ignored the electricity seeping out of the pores of the other kitsune and headed toward the open front door instead. I hadn’t missed the deadline by enough minutes that Kira should have suffered for it. But her absence was telling, to say the least.
Only my sister wasn’t being punished for my lapses. Because even as I brushed past Sakurako, Kira was stepping out into the sunlight with a big smile on her face. “Mai! I’ve been waiting for you. I want to show you the library and...”
And no one had told the thirteen-year-old about the swap. Now it was my turn to glare at Sakurako, and I thought she might have actually wilted slightly beneath the force of my rage.
“Kira, walk with me,” I interjected, taking my sister’s hand for what was likely to be the last time in decades or at least years. The ache of my mate bond had dulled with distance, but now the pounding in my head leapt back to life with a jolt.
In response, my feet tried to stumble, but I pushed aside physical ailments and made my sister the entirety of my world for one brief moment. Still, she noticed my trembling, glanced back over one shoulder, asked me, “What’s wrong?”
Rather than answering, I picked up the pace, surprised to find no complaint from my sister as she trotted right alongside me. Only when we were far enough away from our audience so shifter ears couldn’t pick up on our conversation did we turn and face each other, neither of us initiating the movement but our toe tips meeting at the exact same time.
This was what we were losing. Sisterhood. Bonds of blood that ran deeper than mere genetics. I would never watch Kira blossom into womanhood, would never teach her to fight with a sharp-edged sword.
“You’re going and I’m staying,” I started. Then, as bargains and complaints rose in my sister’s eyes, I shut her down abruptly. “I can’t change this, Kira. Please don’t ask me to.”
Given the way she liked to gripe about everything from breakfast to homework, I thought she’d argue or at least rail against the fates and the world. Instead, my little sister stood as tall and straight as I did, asked a single question: “Until when?”
“I don’t know,” I told her truthfully. But, as Kira slipped cold fingers around my waist and hugged me tight enough to last a lifetime, I had a sinking suspicion our separation would last for a long, long time.