Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1) - Kat Cho Page 0,29

his lungs.

“You’re pushing me very close to my limit,” Miyoung growled.

“I don’t care.” The adrenaline rush of fear mixed with his anger, daring him to go further. Perhaps if he died, his mother would finally regret leaving him.

“I gave you fair warning.” Miyoung’s fist shot forward. Jihoon winced as he waited for the impact. Instead, he heard the echo of a thud as her hand crashed into the plastic tubing by his head.

He looked at the long cracks running from the large dent two centimeters from his skull.

“Next time I won’t hold back.”

His legs threatened to buckle when she released him, so he held on to the edge of the slide for support.

“Okay then.” His voice was breathy.

“What did you see in the forest?”

“I didn’t see much.” He thought back. “Just the dokkaebi. Your tails. And . . .”

“And?” She leaned forward. This close, she was stunning, and he blinked at the sight of her, like a man staring into the sun.

“That bead.” He barely got the stuttered word out, suddenly feeling like his whole body was made of nerves. Despite himself, he’d searched his halmeoni’s old books until he’d found the tales of the gumiho. And one had detailed a fox bead, one that held all the knowledge of the universe.

She hummed deep in her throat. “What did you feel when you picked it up?”

He paused, searching for the trap in her question. When he couldn’t clearly see one, he replied, “It felt warm, like it was alive.”

“And nothing else?” she asked roughly, like she was already blaming him for something, but he didn’t know what.

“Nothing until the dream. It felt real, like it was you, not just a memory of you.”

“Gumiho can come to humans in their dreams. It’s not unheard of.” She flicked her wrist like a dismissal of his concern, as if visiting each other’s dreams was as simple as visiting the corner market.

“Are you going to do it again?”

Her eyes were dark as she replied, “No.”

He started to push, to demand better answers. But he kept quiet. His halmeoni had instilled enough superstition in him that he knew it wasn’t smart for a person to go looking for trouble among things he didn’t understand.

“Will you be okay?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking. And Miyoung’s wide-eyed stare showed she hadn’t expected such a question. “Without your bead,” he continued, “will you be okay?”

A frown marred her smooth features. “I’ll be fine,” she said softly, but her voice trembled.

She didn’t look like she was fine. Her face looked drawn, her eyes shadowed. But instead he said, “I really will keep your secret. Let’s make a deal. I promise not to tell your secret if you promise not to rip out my liver. Call?” He held out his hand.

He expected the hesitation, but not the slight tremor in her hand when Miyoung finally took his.

As she closed her fingers around his, it stilled, as if it had never trembled in the first place. But he knew what he’d felt. She was afraid of him, too. Maybe as much as he was of her.

“You’re supposed to say ‘call,’” he said with a friendly grin. He felt a need to soothe her worries. “Or else the deal isn’t sealed.”

She shook her head and pulled her hand free, leaving a smear of blood across his palm.

“You’re bleeding.” Jihoon grabbed her hand again.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be a baby,” he said, digging in his pocket and pulling out a tissue. He clucked his tongue at the blood as he tied the makeshift bandage around her hand. “I don’t have anything on me, but you should clean it when you get home. Or else it’ll get infected.”

“You sound like an old woman.”

She watched him so intently with a look somewhere between confused and intrigued. It made his heart stutter a beat.

Jihoon dropped her hand and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “I get it from my halmeoni.” He used his rambling words to chase away the sudden awkwardness. “She’d lecture you for an hour about bad habits. When I was younger I used to bite my nails and she’d dip my fingers in goya juice every morning to deter me. Now I think I actually like the taste because it reminds me of her.”

“Must be nice.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, gripping her crudely bandaged hand with the other. “I just don’t know what it’s like to have a halmeoni to fuss over me.”

Jihoon blinked at the hint of wistfulness he heard in Miyoung’s voice.