Fox’s Dawn_A Foxy Reverse Harem Shifter Romance by K. R. Alexander

Author:K. R. Alexander [Alexander, K. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Six Wolves Press
Published: 2019-05-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Gutting, skinning, and cooking that hare with the vixen for their lunch made this one of the best days of Demik’s life.

She was right with him, helping and touching, saying the blessing of bounty and thanks to Earth Mother over the body held between them, then listening intently while he talked to her about hunting and cooking.

Kits raced past. Adults gutted the morning’s catch around communal fires. The vixen gave Tem her three spinning tops, then she and Demik joined in their game with the fourth.

He was supposed to be working on boat repairs. Instead, the whole afternoon was spent in closeness, laughter, food, and a happiness he had seldom known. Happiness fueled on her endless smiles, her ideas for games with the tops, her help and nearness, her voice and the way she touched him—as if they’d been holding hands all their lives.

Her speech was still careful, though already transformed from the evening before. Now she sounded only as if she were thinking about what she said—rather than that she was struggling with the sounds themselves.

He pressed more and more of the hare on her, overjoyed by her enthusiasm as she devoured the meal. Demik only wished he’d actually been the provider. Next time.

Then she asked about his canoes, apparently forgetting they should be concerned with matters of her name and her past, not his life. Even so, Demik did not hesitate to show her.

She eagerly joined in his work—sanding and sealing cracks, patching old hulls. Until she got pitch on the end of her long braid that had fallen forward over her shoulder.

Demik started to lead her to the riverbank, where they could rub gravel through it. Instead, the vixen, untroubled, took stock of the sticky mess, grabbed the wonderfully sharp hatchet that was used for scraping down splintery edges, and, with her braid on a discarded board, chopped off the end.

Too late, Demik ran forward, protesting in horror that she mustn’t cut her hair. It was her crowning beauty, a sign of her people and her history. She couldn’t go around chopping her hair like some common human. He just stopped himself making reference to Mej and Komu’s shameful short hair that looked like many white men.

She laughed him off, holding up the tail of tarry hair. “Only a hand-length.” Then, seeing how upset he was, she dropped hair and hatchet and embraced him, kissing his jaw.

“It didn’t harm me,” she assured him. “Only hair. It grows. But I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“No, I…” Demik felt stupid, his neck hot. “You’re right. I should have warned you about the pitch. It was my fault.”

Then, of course, she had to chop off the other side to match, no matter her apologies or his having to turn away from the sight.

Before they could move on, Mej and Komu walked up the bank from an afternoon’s fishing. Both were in high spirits, recovered from their hangovers, showing off their catches to the vixen—who reacted with entirely too much delight and praise, as if they’d brought down a charging bear with their fists.

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