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Because if I opened my mouth, the only sound that was going to come out was the whimper I'd been swallowing since the cedar hit the back of my tongue.

“I can’t see you, but your magic is even stronger now. I can taste it in the air.” A dark sexy groan left him. “You smell like things I’ve never heard of, seen, or tasted in all of these centuries I’ve been alive, yet. . .I know their names and scents now.”

Fear rose within me, and I shouldn’t have. . .I really fucking shouldn’t have asked, but I had to. “What. . .do I. . .smell like to you?”

“Rain falling on a hot pavement in a quarter I’ve never seen, steaming off cobblestones that. . .were laid by hands that had been in chains.”

My eyes watered.

“I smell this vibrant river underneath it too. That river lives within you.”

I closed my eyes as a shudder ran through me.

“Cane sugar surrendering to a hot pan. Melting to this perfect liquid brown. A bourbon I’ve never tasted in my life. Shea butter at the hollow of a collarbone. All with the rich mineral bite of dirt from a graveyard I’ve never seen, but crave to visit soon. . .because. . .I can sense that it holds great power.”

My hands began to shake.

“Oh. . .the things we will do in these next days.”

I opened my eyes. “Nothing will be happening between us. And what the fuck is up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you trying to kill me? Possess me? Or fuck me? Like what is really going on?”

“Not kill. Never kill. You’ll always be safe with me, little witch.”

And then his voice went away, and all I was left with was the final options I’d given him—possess and fuck.

Whatever he was doing to my body, it wasn't my magic. It was his. And I wasn't about to let some strange dick in a car in Kyoto rent space in my pussy for free.

Alright, so dude is insane. When he shows up, I’m killing him.

Chapter four

Burn Notice

Gabby

🎧 Chapter 4 Soundtrack:

Fifteen minutes passed.

Fifteen long, silent minutes during which no ancient kitsune appeared at my door, climbed through my window, or whispered another dirty declaration inside my head.

Maybe Yoichi had changed his mind.

Maybe his driver had talked sense into him.

Maybe he had realized that tracking a woman to her hotel after biting her was not romantic behavior. It was the opening scene of a true-crime documentary.

Still. . .just in case. . .I sat in the center of my bed with my back against the headboard and my gun resting beside my thigh.

My hotel was actually a restored machiya, one of Kyoto’s traditional wooden townhouses that had been converted into several private guest suites. Instead of opening onto an indoor hallway, my room had its own heavy wooden door leading to a covered veranda and a small courtyard garden. Charming during the day. At night, it offered ancient fox spirits far too many dramatic ways to arrive.

I did not believe any of those maybes.

The bite beneath my bandage still pulsed. Granted, its rhythm had slowed, but it had not weakened. Each beat sent a warm current through my palm, up my arm, and into the black heart at the center of my chest.