“I think I’m a little shy of touching you,” he finally said. “I mean, sex-touching. You know? You’re my favorite person in the world, Bitterblue, and we’ve been friends for years. It’s a lot all at once. Until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know you were alive.”

“I can understand that,” she said, still sniffling a little, but calmer. “It’s different for me, because I’ve been fantasizing about you for days.”

“You have?” said Giddon, who found this very interesting.

“I have,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up. “I’ve got a lot of questions. For your body, I mean.”

“Do you?” he said. “I have answers.”

Bitterblue laughed, then hugged him in the familiar way. She smiled into his neck. “Do you know about kittens?”

She’d spoken the word in Keepish. “Kittens? As in, baby cats?”

“Sort of,” she said. “No, not really. Not at all.” She began to trace her hand down his neck and over his shoulder, down his arm, his hip, his thigh, creating pleasurable shivers all along his side. She did it again, as if she was petting him.

“When you do that,” said Giddon, “I begin to feel less shy.”

She did it again. “Do you?”

“Does this have something to do with kittens?”

“That depends,” she said, beginning to add little kisses while she petted him, to his ear, his throat, the inside of his elbow. The inside of his thigh.

“What does it depend on?” he asked.

“On where you’d like me to touch you.”

With the next little kiss, Giddon found himself reaching for her. Tugging gently at her pajama top, which kept slipping down her shoulder, revealing a soft place on the inside of her arm that he wanted to kiss.

“Tell me about kittens,” he said roughly.

“I will.”

“And tell me what you want.”

“I will,” she said, beginning to smile. “Still shy?”

“I’ve recovered,” he said, which was almost entirely true. “And don’t think I didn’t notice it was your doing.”

“I believe what you said before.”

Giddon was having trouble remembering anything he’d said before, which was also her doing. “What did I say?”

She touched his face. Showed him her eyes, which contained some shyness of her own. He kissed the side of her nose, the place under her ear. He wanted to kiss the part of her neck that was hidden by her hair. He moved her hair aside, touched his mouth to her skin. The small noises she was making in response banished the last of his shyness.

“We’re a team, Giddon,” she whispered. “You and I.”

Chapter Thirty-four

The fox who was bonded to Ferla Cavenda was pretending to be dead.