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She felt it and shivered.

“Old blood carries its own signature.”

She blinked. “Yes. It does.”

“Cruelty leaves a scent in a bloodline, one that could be tracked.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I could kill them.”

She quirked her brows. “Kill who?”

“Every living descendant of every man who had held a whip over your ancestors. I could pull them from their beds in the middle of the night and fucking end them. And when I’m finished, I will carry their decapitated heads and lay them in a neat row on the front steps of your family home.” I got so excited about the idea that I bobbed my head. “It would be my first romantic gift to you.”

“I actually prefer diamonds.”

“You’ll get that too, yet. . .say the word.”

“I don’t need you to go on a killing spree around the state of Louisiana—”

“So these people are there—”

“You need to calm down.”

And instantly. . .I calmed. . .just from her request—leaned back, bowed my head, and shoved the idea out of my mind for now.

Gabby parted her lips. “What are you doing?”

“Calming down for my mate.”

“O-kay.” She stared up at me for a long moment. “This. . .is insane. . .”

“Is it?”

“I just came to Japan for roots behind that shrine.”

“Yet, you grabbed my nails instead.”

“Excuse me?”

“My old nails. I smelled them in your room and went to your bag. You dug them all out of the soil. Why?”

“Those are roots.”

“Those are my kitsune’s nails. They fall from my paws when they get old, sink in the soil, and grow these peculiar orange flowers. Humans call them foxfire blooms.”

“Your nails.” She frowned. “My aunt told me to get them. She showed me a picture.”

“Then, I like your aunt very much. I wonder if she knows the warning.”

“What warning?”

“To pick a foxfire bloom is to bump into a kitsune.”

She let out a long sigh. “I’m sure she knew.”

I leaned my head to the side. “Back to this cursed heart. Your great-great-great grandmother caused it how?”