Page 25 of Up in Smoke

“She definitely doesn’t understand that at all. Winter is for the creation of children, and she’s very clear on how that works, but she doesn’t really understand I’m not restricted to just winter.”

“Right. There are plenty of hybrids who have children year round. Winter is just when the fox’s natural instincts tend to take over. The men have a much harder time than the women, too.”

I bet. “I still feel so badly for the ones who are passed around.”

“Me, too. My mother is looking into how the system might be changed, but she’s not confident at this point in time. There are too many willing participants in the system—even among the courtesans. It’s estimated that at least seventy-five percent of the courtesans signed up of their own free will. The buyers are always willing participants. That leaves the twenty-five percent victims of the system. And those are the ones who usually can’t escape even if they want to. Few can afford it. My mother goes out of her way to make sure my father can’t escape her. Now it’s a game to them. Dad toys with Mom as though he plans to break their contract, and then she clings to his leg and begs for another kid. You would think she would have gotten tired of the messes us kids cause her by now.”

I could not imagine Sandro’s mother being happy without young children under her feet and causing trouble. “Sure, Sandro. Your mother is so the kind to complain she doesn’t have a baby around even when she’s ninety.”

“It disturbs me you’re probably right,” he admitted. “I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“What do you do when you travel alone and are stuck in a cellar?”

“Wait,” I replied, puzzled. “There’s nothing to do but wait. I usually didn’t bring things like books with me. They were too easy to destroy.”

“Our e-readers are waterproof,” he informed me with pride, digging the pair of them out of his bag. “I loaded ours up with a wide assortment of books for our enjoyment while you were napping. I also brought a deck of cards if we get tired of reading.”

My fox had a few ideas of what we could do to spend the time while waiting for the storm to end. I considered ignoring her, but I considered my bag, which had a stockpile of condoms, birth control, and other goodies. Ryleigh had even gone above and beyond the call of duty to make sure the birth control I used would work after a few days rather than an entire month.

There would be no children unless everyone involved wanted them.

I grabbed my bag, dug through it for my collection of condoms, and held up the first box I came across, which actually held three boxes worth of condoms in it. “I have more where these came from.”

Ryleigh had insisted on giving me five overburdened boxes along with a six-month supply of birth control.

I liked that the Voodoo queen understood and acknowledged the dangers of the road to both mother and unborn child. When I had a child, I would do so in as safe a fashion as possible for the baby.

Sandro eyed the box of condoms and the e-readers, and after several long moments, he put the e-readers back in his bag, rummaged around, and pulled out a different brand of condom. Like mine, it appeared to have a few extras stuffed inside. “Well, I guess I don’t need to feel silly for being hopeful you and your fox might want to enjoy my company now.”

“Did you stuff as many as would fit in the box when you were packing?” I asked with a grin.

“I managed to cram three and a half boxes into this one. I have random condoms hanging out in my bag in various small pockets. If anyone searches my bag, they’re going to think I have quite the love life.”

“Well, my bag has several more of these boxes, all of them overfilled, birth control for me, and chocolate.”

“I brought chocolate for you, as I have learned my vixen is easily tamed when offered a morsel of chocolate.”

“I am ready to be tamed, especially if there’s chocolate involved.”

With a wicked smile, Sandro set the box of condoms down and brought out a wrapped truffle. “Let’s find out just how much you want this decadent treat, shall we?”

He reduced my fox to a drooling mess, and if she could have, she would have purred. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend riding out a storm, and rather than reply, I tossed aside my box and pounced.

If he wanted a docile woman, he wouldn’t have wanted a vixen in the first place. He only had himself to blame for biting off more than he could chew.