Chapter Two
Seraphina Mickelson slammed the phone down and stared at it rattling in the cradle. She had nothing against phones normally, but this one she wished she could rip from the wall and chuck it hard at the elevator doors across from the reception desk of Old Man Hubbard’s newly renamed hotel no matter how unprofessional and unladylike it was.
I’m coming for you Sera. You. Are. Mine.
The voice was familiar even though she hadn’t heard it in so many years. Not since they were both young. Not since she’d been promised to him as long as he could survive a spur.
The vicious fox shifter mating ritual required males to fight to the death for their chosen female. Winning gave them all rights to the female and her body. And gave said female none. Made them little more than a living doll to do their bidding.
That life was not for her. No siree. Never, not ever.
Only one of the Vixens had ever endured one. Ragan had been won by a brutal male when she was barely more than a young. She fought. Fought hard. But in the end, it didn’t matter. She had the scars—inside and out—and a little kit to prove it. But she’d escaped, they all had. And now they were raising her young to be a better man than his father.
Sera, you are mine. I’m close.
She shivered at his words that wouldn’t quit floating through her mind like a bad case of springtime pollen. If only she could sneeze him away so easily. Getteth the hell outeth.
Maxim.
Mine? Her confused animal knew the name, but it was more than that. The vixen inside was a true submissive even if the human part of her wasn’t. If a male was staking claim, the fox wanted to submit and go tail up.
“Not mine,” Seraphina corrected.
She practically dove for the little broadband radio she kept behind the desk, frantically twisting the ancient knob until the speakers frizzled with a deep thrumming voice she was familiar with.
“Hot Rod Turner here, and I’d say it’s a beautiful morning, but have you looked outside? I mean, have you? The sun is hiding behind a sky the exact damn color of my hopes and dreams, friends.”
Seraphina sighed, her eyes closing as her entire body relaxed. He did that to her. Kept her calm when inside she was swirling. Did it with his voice more than his presence. Especially his radio voice, which was a little different than his everyday voice. But not much.
“This tells me it’s time for a look at our forecast.”
Mine? her vixen asked. But Seraphina chewed her lip instead of answering.
Rod was the sexiest human she’d encountered in… ever. He was snarky and irreverent. A little messy on the outside with his shaggy dark hair and scruffy chin. He dressed like he didn’t give any care to what the world thought of him. All t-shirts, holey jeans, and Converse shoes. The guy had more Converse than she had leather. And she had enough leather to upholster approximately eleventy couches.
But he was so chill she couldn’t get her brain and heart to line up. Couldn’t figure out what he was to her. His effect was incredible. While he seemed about as interested in her as a dog was in pooping on concrete. He was looking for grass and she was just… cement.
“So here we go. Dan Davis from KJRH Channel 10 is here to tell us if we’ll need our umbrellas today. I’m placing my bet on hell yeah, just so you know.”
Seraphina hugged the radio close as the bouncy music for the weather report took the place of Rod’s smooth voice.
The sound of small shoes slapping against the tiled hall brought her gaze up, and she knew it was Kit. Ragan’s little boy really belonged to all of them. He was a sweet one, with a mop of dark curls and a grin that would win the girls over one day. Seraphina was proud of how he was turning out. A gentleman in the making.
“Slow down, boy,” Mac’s low voice echoed over before she could even see them.
“Sorry, Mac. I’m jus’ hunnnnnnngry.”
“Yeah. Me too. But we gotta walk not run.”
“Well, then. Can we walk really, really fast?”
They came out in the foyer, Kit wearing a huge desperate smile and Mac looking stern even with amusement dancing in his gaze. He limped after the young and seemed relieved when Kit stopped at the reception desk, allowing him and his bum leg to catch up.
Mac wasn’t old enough to be their father—not even close—but all the Vixens looked up to him like he was. They valued his opinion, and he doled out plenty of loving bossiness. But Mac was far from the cruel and calculating alpha who’d been Seraphina’s real father.
The one who’d promised her to Maxim to strike up an alliance between skulks. Like some antiquated arranged marriage. Here’s my daughter, let’s be friends.
“Is that Hot Rod on the radio?” Kit asked, a broad smile stretching his face.
Seraphina grinned back. “The weather man. But he’ll be right back. You wanna listen?”
Kit’s eyes got big. “Yeah!”
“What about being real real hungry?” Mac grumbled, leaning against the counter, looking cooler than the Marlboro Man.
Kit shrugged. “My ears are hungry too. For some good music.”
“That right?”
Seraphina laughed as Lexington, the vixen in charge, came strolling in with her human mate, Aaron, by her side. They didn’t stay in the hotel with the rest of them. They had a small cabin on the DTD property. But they came to do their jobs every morning. Helping Old Man Hubbard with the hotel gave them all purpose.
They stopped at the desk to chat with Mac as the weather report ended and Rod set up for a new song.
In a flurry, Barb emerged from the small kitchen off the side of the breakfast area, carrying a tray of bagels, and set them on the buffet before moseying over to catch up with the others.
Foxy Lady by Jimi Hendrix started playing over the radio, and Sally’s annoyed groan could be heard from over by the elevators. It was a song Rod played every morning and they were all pretty tired of hearing it.
All of them except Seraphina, because she liked to pretend it was their song.
“Why, why, why, why?” Sally muttered as she turned the corner plastered to the side of her new mate… Rider Daley. Yep, that was the name on his birth certificate. Sera had seen it with her own eyes or she never would’ve believed it. He had his arm draped loose over Sally’s shoulders as they walked, and his hair fell over his eyes like always. But today they glinted with mischief instead of being dark with regrets.
It was a nice change.
And Sally was all… peachy… instead of flashing her peach to anyone who wanted a look. Big difference there. The two were committed for life, and it was a truly beautiful thing.
A thing Seraphina wanted.
A thing they all wanted if Barb’s envious look-away was any indication.
Except maybe not Ragan. She was different. Too careful. Too hurt.
“Damn, Sera,” Sally grumbled, breaking away from Rider and pouring herself some orange juice from the bar. “Can’t you get your boy to stop playing this POS song for one damn day? I mean, this is a desperate cry for help. Can’t you hear him?”
“What are you saying?” Seraphina laughed. “And let the record show, he is not my boy.”
Sally raised an eyebrow and sipped her OJ. “He’s begging for a foxy lady.”
“He’s playing a song.”
“Yeah,” Barb agreed, rolling her eyes. “Over and over and over and over…”
Seraphina glanced at Rider who looked away, brushing his palm over his jaw. She found Aaron, who also pretended to be real interested in Lexington’s hair. Or… maybe he was actually interested in her hair. Who knew.
Sally looked at Seraphina like she was the one who could put them out of their misery. But…
“I like the song,” Kit piped up, finishing her thought.
“Me too,” Seraphina agreed. She liked it a whole lot really.
“Sure,” Lexington said, but it was only a prelude. “It’s great. The first day. But I have to agree, it’s getting annoying. He played it twice yesterday. In a three-hour show.”
It was just a song. Who cared how often he played it. He probably just hit a button and didn’t think twice about it.
“Okay, but you guys are acting like this is my fault. What’s this have to do with me? I don’t decide on his song list.”
Mac frowned.
Kit looked between all the adult faces, as confused as she was.
Barb rolled her eyes.
Sally exchanged a look with Rider, who exchanged a look with Aaron.
And Lexington smirked, opening her mouth to say something—
“…raphina.”
Seraphina jolted at what sounded like her name coming across the speakers. She yanked her gaze away from her friends and stared at the radio in her hands.
The song had ended and there was a silence that was never usually there. Rod was the kind of voice who made the most out of every second of airtime. But now the mic was just crackling with empty breath.
“Seraphina,” he murmured, husky and smooth. It made the smallest hairs on her arm stand tall and her vixen alert. “Mmmm, girl.”
Holy...
Was he… dreaming?
Of her?
Her cheeks went flaming hot as a blush washed over her entire body.
“Is he…” Rider started, and she looked up to find six sets of eyes wider than the Panama Canal.
“… asleep?” Aaron finished.
“Mmmm,” Rod moaned over the radio, following it with a barely perceptible snore.
“Oh. My. God,” Barb whispered. “Oh my sweet baby Jesus in a manger, frankincense and myrrh and a little drummer boy.” She slapped her palm over her mouth, weird squeaking noises that were probably supposed to be laughter eking out around the barrier.
Sally’s mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s tit. Hot Rod Turner is having a hot bod dream about our little Seraphina.”
“I’m not little,” she snapped, stupidly. It was the first thing that came to mind, and not helpful at all since Sally and Barb both erupted into laughter. Lexington too. And Kit, even though he didn’t quite understand why everyone was giggling.
“She’s right though,” Lexington managed between snorts. “He’s dreaming of you. On air.”
He was.
Seraphina stared at the radio like it was a foreign object. She wasn’t sure if she should turn it off or keep listening… or chuck it against the wall so no one could ever listen to it again.
Her face felt like the depths of hell. Her cheeks must be the color of pomegranates.
If she wasn’t standing in the middle of her crew hearing this for herself, she’d think she was going crazy. That her hoping Rod would notice her was messing with her imagination. But no. The looks on their faces told her this was real. Rod was murmuring her name on air in a sexy way that made her feel bare naked.
She had to do something.
“Maxim is coming for me,” she blurted.
And yep. That had the effect she was going for. Sorta. It stopped all the laughing as if she’d mashed the breaks last minute at a stoplight. It was almost comical how fast the mood changed.
Except Maxim’s threat wasn’t funny.
Not at all.
Mac straightened, looking ready to beat ass. “Kit, go get your breakfast.”
“But—”
“Go on, boy.”
Kit grumbled and made his way over to the buffet, side-eyeing them all.
“Exxxxxskee-use me,” Barb said, her left eyebrow tilting up sharply.
“The fuck you say?” Sally hissed.
Rider frowned. “Maxim? Sounds like a male enhancement pill.”
“Wrong,” Lexington said flatly. “A fox. A male. Sera’s.”
“Not mine,” Seraphina snapped. “Never mine.”
Ragan’s dark voice rose from behind the others. When she’d snuck up on the situation, Seraphina didn’t know. Sneaky vixen. “Not hers. She was promised to him if he could win the spur. But we got out before there ever was one.”
“And now he’s coming for her?” Aaron asked, brow furrowed tight. The man was a former shifter hunter. He’d put down many a vicious beast. And Sera thought part of him would always want to see shifters as enemies. Even if the species made up ninety five percent of his friends, including his life mate.
“How long?” Mac asked.
“I… I don’t know. Maybe he’s not even close. I just keep getting phone calls.”
“Here?”
Seraphina nodded. Somehow, she felt like they were all judging her. Like this was her fault, even though she hadn’t talked to Maxim in ages.
“It’s fine,” she started.
“We need to tell Drake and the dogs right away,” Aaron said, and the others nodded.
“What’s this bastard look like?” Rider asked.
“Foxy. Dude-ish. He has hair.” Barb shrugged.
“That’s very helpful,” Rider deadpanned, and she nodded seriously. Like her details had actually given him something to go on.
Seraphina tried again. “Look, it’s all right. What can he do? I don’t belong to him. If he shows up, we’ll send him packing. It will be the quickest vacation he ever took.”
“Hot Rod Turner here, and yeah that was me snoring that last one away. Maybe it’s time for some new music, huh?”
“Yes. God, yes.” Barb pumped her fists in victory.
But the collective groan as Foxy Lady started playing again sounded as hopeless as Seraphina felt.
She pressed the radio close to her chest.
At least maybe they’d all forget about Rod having naughty dreams of her on air.
Yeah. See? Always look for the silver lining.