Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(90)

He frowned at the unbidden thought. Did he still love her?

Then he sighed. Of course he did—only someone he loved could make him as angry as she did.

“Miyoung, come here.” He patted the edge of the bed.

She sat precariously on the edge of the bed so she was more leaning than sitting.

With a heavy sigh, he gripped her hand. It felt clammy, shaking slightly in his.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m stronger than I look.” He tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face.

Tears created rivers along her pale skin.

“Don’t cry. I promise I’ll be fine.” He wiped at the dampness on her cheeks and her hand came up to catch his. It no longer trembled.

“It’s all my fault,” she said again. “My bead is causing this.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because—” She paused, taking in deep breaths of air so quickly, he worried she’d hyperventilate.

“You’re scaring me,” Jihoon said. “Just say it.”

“It’s inside of you.”

“What? How?” He didn’t realize he’d pulled his hands back until they were cradled against his chest.

“You almost died when my mother attacked you. I didn’t know if you’d make it.” Miyoung stood, creating more distance between them. “Your halmeoni told me to use the bead.”

“My halmeoni?” Jihoon’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“It started to heal you, but it wasn’t enough. It needed more gi.”

“Whose?” Jihoon asked, but the weight in his stomach told him he already knew.

Miyoung didn’t answer. She couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Tell me whose gi.”

“Your halmeoni’s.”

Disbelief spread through him, a wash of ice. He couldn’t feel his toes, his fingers, his heart.

“She wanted you to live. It was her final wish.” Miyoung’s hands folded together, like she was begging him to understand.

“‘Final wish’?” Jihoon spat out, anger twisting his gut. “That’s why she won’t wake up from her coma.” Realization splashed over him like a winter wave breaking on rocks. “It wasn’t Yena. It was you.”



“I’m sorry. It was the only way to save you.”

“That’s why you came back? Because you felt guilty after doing this to my halmeoni?” Jihoon tried to catch his breath, praying he wouldn’t throw up as nausea curled through him.

“This is what I’m talking about,” Miyoung said, urgency in her voice. “Having my bead inside you is making you sick. A mortal body was never meant to hold a fox bead.”

“You had no right.” Jihoon wasn’t sure what he was referring to. Trading his halmeoni’s life for his. Saving him only to leave him. Coming back and making him love her again.

“Jihoon-ah, I’m so sorry.” She reached out, and he jerked back.

“Don’t touch me.” His chest flared with heat that he would have attributed to anger, except it lingered, a warmth that washed over his ribs and into his shoulders. Then it centered in his chest, directly over his heart, like a ball of fire. If he concentrated, he could almost hear another heartbeat, one that mirrored his own. Miyoung’s heart. Her eyes flashed as she brought her hand down in slow, jerking movements like she fought an invisible force.

A memory tickled at the back of his mind: Miyoung saying that a man could control a gumiho if he possessed her bead.

“That’s why you came back.” He almost laughed at his own naiveté. “Not to help my halmeoni, but because you need your bead. That’s what it’s always been about with us. You lost your bead, and you’ve been trying to get it back ever since we met.”

“No.” Miyoung shook her head. “I came back for you.”

“Stop lying!”

The heat in his heart receded into a dull glow. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. In, hold, slowly out.

When he spoke again, his voice was low but steady. “You’re no better than your mother. Manipulating everyone around you to get what you want.” Jihoon didn’t know what to feel. He was worried he’d lost the ability altogether.

“Please,” she begged, grabbing his arm. “I was wrong. I was—”

“Stop!” It seemed he could still feel. And he was angry.

She fell silent so suddenly, it was as if he’d pressed the mute button.

They sat for a moment, Jihoon still as stone, Miyoung racked with silent tears she couldn’t shed.

There was a knock and Detective Hae opened the door.

“Ajeossi.” Jihoon said it like a plea for help. He needed someone to make sense of all this for him.

“Jihoon-ah, what happened?” Detective Hae stepped into the room, then stopped when he saw Miyoung. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

Miyoung hastily swiped her hands over her cheeks to push away her tears and stood.

“You look just like her,” Detective Hae whispered, stopping Miyoung in mid-bow.

“Like who?” Miyoung asked, staring at Detective Hae with appraising eyes. A tiger deciding if the man in front of her was prey or foe.