Free Vixen by Finley Aaron

your life because of whatever happened—”
    “Be quiet!” Ion opens the door just wide enough to stick his face out and hiss at me. “Don’t you know there are yagi around? Keep your voice down.”
    I pounce on the crack and stick my arm through so he can’t shut it again. (Really, does he not remember I have four siblings? This is not my first shouted-from-the-other-side-of-a-closed-door conversation.) “Let me in. Please? I can explain.”
    “There’s nothing you could possibly explain that would in any way change anything.” Ion’s got the door held firmly in place, so that I can’t get it open any more, but neither is he smashing my arm, though he’d have every right to, I suppose.
    “Why?” I’ve got my face against the crack, now. With one eye, I can see his face, all furious and purse-lipped above me. “You knew who I was when I got here, but you let me in. Fed me supper—thank you, by the way, in case I didn’t say it enough before. All that time you thought I wanted to steal from you, but the moment I confess I actually want to love you, you kick me out.”
    “Don’t say that word. Don’t ever say that word again.”
    “Love?” Any doubt I might have harbored about which word he meant is dashed by the look on his face. I could have punched him and he wouldn’t look so pained. “What’s wrong with love , Ion?”
    “Just go.” He’s pleading now, and his hold on the door has loosened a bit.
    I suppose I’d have to be a real jerk to take advantage of his momentary weakness and push my way in now.
    But I’ve already lied to him half a dozen times, so what’s one more jerkish thing? I give the door one sudden, hefty shove, simultaneously slipping through the gap before Ion slams it shut again.
    He looks at me with pure, simmering resentment. “For your information, I was perfectly happy before you arrived.”
    “Happy?” I raise a challenging eyebrow.
    “Content.” He’s seething at me, all hundred-year-old-dragon-man and dude-who’s-only-my-age rolled into one.
    It’s a fascinating combination. “I’m not content, Ion. I want a family. I want my kids to grow up alongside their cousins—”
    “That is precisely why you need to leave here now.” Ion’s not so much shouting, as just speaking with an intensity that buries my words. “If you and I—” He throws his hands into the air and laughs, as though the very idea is unspeakably absurd. “Your parents loathe, despise, hate, and fear me. Your father has vowed to kill me on sight. There can never be anything between us. To pretend otherwise is to invite heartbreak.”
    “My mother doesn’t loathe you.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I quizzed her all about you. She claims you’re evil and out to kill us all, but at the same time, she admits she was never sure about that.”
    Ion’s expression softens slightly. “Never sure?”
    “My dad loathes you, and my mom listens to my dad, but she has her reservations.”
    Ion’s listening, open-mouthed, but then he clamps his mouth shut, grabs me by the wrist, and crosses the room. “This is absurd. I should not even be listening.” He lifts the candelabra from off the piano and heads for the door to the hall, towing me not-too-unwillingly after him.
    “Where are we going?”
    “To the front door. I realized once I’d shut you outside, I’d put you in an awkward position. That was not my intention. I was reacting to unforeseen circumstances. You can leave by the main entrance.”
    “You told Jala you’d walk me home.”
    “I told Jala I’d walk Vivica home. You’ll have to give her my regrets. I can’t be rid of you soon enough.” We’re walking through the halls at a brisk pace, down stairs and toward the front entrance. At this rate, we’ll be there any second.
    “Why not?”
    “You just need to leave.”
    “Why?” We’re in the foyer. I’ve got seconds, maybe only milliseconds left. I may never get another chance like this, so I’ll have to hit it with