“It’s because they’ve been hiding, lying to us all about who they really are!” Goodall shouts, the veins in his temples bulging.
“Suck it, Goodall,” Chelsey says, shaking her head, making the crowd gasp. She steps up onto a white chair next to me, cupping her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry to be vulgar but come on! Hiding? Lying? This man has fixed something in every one of our homes over the years, he helps everyone when asked and expects nothing in return, he’s been with your children all day and after, he’s going to clean all this up with my sister with zero thanks. Has he hid? No. Has he protected himself and who he is out of fear? Yes. And can any one of you blame him? Look. The Mayor learned something private about Mr. Hopper and what did he do? Did he take him aside privately and talk to him, try and understand him? No. What he did was secretly film him and show the whole town in an effort to humiliate him. Hurt him, make him feel so alienated that he left the only place he calls home.” She shakes her head, and the whole crowd cuts their eyes to Goodall, who scoffs, but realizes… no one is on his side.
“My sister came here to save the Eggstravaganza and Jack Hopper helped her! Jack Hopper should be the mayor!”
I shrug, wearing a smile from ear to ear as I ask the town what they want. “Carrot Creekers, what do you say? Should we make Mayor Goodall’s dreams come true and have the reelection campaign now? Let’s vote. All in favor of an impromptu vote, raise a hand.”
Hands fill the air. Jack finally tips his mask back beneath his hood, revealing a tangle of sweaty chestnut hair and shining eyes. “Thank you,” he mouths to me with the mask tipped up a moment, and I wink, my insides clenching at the idea of being with him later. It’s basically a wedding ceremony in the were-verse, and I’m so ready to be his.
“Okay, now that everyone has agreed to a vote?—”
“I don’t agree,” Goodall stomps his foot like a toddler. “I don’t agree to a vote!”
“Majority wins, Goodall,” Chelsey says, smiling. She reaches out and grips my wrist, jerking my hand into the air. “Those who want Esther Basquette to be the mayor of Carrot Creek, raise your hand.”
My eyes sting with adoration for this town that I was so reluctant to visit, that I’d initially believed held nothing for me. And now they don’t just have Jack’s back, but they have mine, too.
“The town has spoken! On this Easter day of 2026, I declare Esther Basquette the Mayor!”
I motion Jack over, and he steps up onto a chair next to me and Chelsey. “Thank you for all of this,” he whispers. I run the backs of my knuckles down the furry side of his hood, careful not to touch him and make him undoubtedly shift.
“Anything for you, Jack. You’re my hoppy ending.”
10
The full moon hangs low and heavy, bathing the lavender field in what feels like magical light. Esther Basquette, my heart and soul, the woman who honorably defended me, stands barefoot at the edge of the swaying purple flowers, the night air thick with the sweet, heady perfume of lavender and her, cinnamon, vanilla, and tempered chocolate. Thousands of carrots lay scattered across the ground like rose petals strewnalong a kind size bed for a bride. Their bright orange tips glow softly amongst the florals and long grass, turning the entire meadow into something sacred, something primal.
Something just for us and our mating ritual.
Wearing a gauzy white nightgown that skims her thighs, she strides through the grass in front of me, the switch of fabric and soft outline of her body driving me wild. The breeze rolls through, lifting the hem of her gown, teasing me with glimpses of her bare skin.
She comes to stand in the center of the field in an opening I created just for tonight. Amidst the lavender and carrots, beneath the moon, she turns and faces the edge of the woods where I’ve been waiting. With a deep breath, I emerge from the woods.
“Jack Hopper,” she whispers when I stand before her, toe to toe. “My were-bunny, my mate, the only man who had ever made my heart thunder and my toes curl.”
Already half-shifted, my lower half remains human, and Esther’s eyes drag down my legs, all of my corded muscle on display. Soft white fur dusts my shoulders and trails down my spine in a tantalizing stripe, which Esther traces with her long, lean fingers. My long, soft ears rise proudly from my dark hair and my body continues to shift in her presence. Her eyes, usually blue, glow like molten gold beneath the moon.
“Esther,” I growl, my voice hoarse with emotion and need.
She reaches between my thighs, grabbing me, my cock already thick and proud, already flushed and weeping at the tip. Esther pumps me to the base, subtly swollen, whispering promises of forever.
“My darling Easter egg,” I whisper, voice rough with need. “My world, my mate.”
She smiles, slow and wicked, still working my cock which is now all Hopper’s. “You’ve been waiting all day for this, haven’t you, Jack?”
“Every damn day since the last Easter,” I answer as I begin shifting her into the prime position, putting her on hands and knees in the carrot-strewn lavender, crushing petals and roots as I do. The scent of crushed greenery and sweet root vegetables mixed with her breedable, mate pussy sends my animal desires skyhigh. “My whole life I dreamed of you, dreamed of this field, of you on your hands and knees for me. Of claiming you under the moon the way bunnies were meant to.”
Esther’s pulse hammers in her throat and I tear her nightgown off, tossing it aside.
“Somehow, somewhere, I knew. The first time you shifted in front of me, even though I was scared and vulnerable, I knew that you and I would be together forever. I can’t explain it, but I knew,” she says to me over her shoulder as I smooth my paw down the curve of her spine.
“No one else could ever satisfy the wild, frantic hunger but you, Esther,” I rasp, pulling her open so I can study her perfect, most beautiful sex.
On her knees in the lavender, the stalks brushing her bare thighs, carrots rolling gently aside as she settles to position, she arches her back, offering herself the way she knows I need. Moonlight paints her skin and the world around us seems to lose color except the pink of her lips and my cock.
Carefully, I claw and grip her hips. Furred fingers dig in just enough to sting deliciously, and she moans with delight in response. “Hopper,” she moans, loving the subtle roughness. Leaning over her, chest to her back, I nuzzle the nape of her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot on her throat where her pulse races.
“You smell like spring,” I murmur against her skin. “Likemine.”
