“They’re scared of open spaces.” Sonny’s voice was quiet, clearly meant for Reese alone. “The fighting ring kept them in small cages between matches. They don’t know what to do with this much room.”
Reese watched as Sonny crouched down beside the dogs. He spoke softly to Delilah and Hercules, reassuring them with touches and words. Both animals gradually relaxed, their bodies losing some of the tension. Delilah ventured a few steps away, sniffing around. Hercules followed more slowly.
Ryan disappeared back inside, giving them privacy. The kitchen window showed movement, the others still discussing security measures. Reese should be in there, should be part of the conversation. But his bear refused to leave his mate’s side, even in their own backyard.
“Now you’re the one staring.” Sonny didn’t look up from the dogs, but his mouth curved into something between a smirk and a real grin. He didn’t turn to look at Reese, but his fingers ran lightly across Delilah’s head. “You’ve been doing that since I invaded your home,” he added, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Stare, I mean. Not that it’s a problem.”
The words stuttered out as Sonny stroked the dog. Reese stayed silent, only closing the distance so his warmth hovered at Sonny’s back.
* * * *
Sonny focused on Delilah and Hercules for another moment, but the line of his shoulders eased, the tension dissipating in the warmth of Reese’s unwavering gaze. He cleared his throat, risked a glance up at Reese, and caught those feral, intent blue eyes watching him with a kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal, making heat rise up his neck. Reese didn’t speak, but his hand dropped to cover Sonny’s on Delilah’s fur, a silent offer of comfort or maybe just proof he was real and here and not going anywhere.
Sonny’s breath hitched for a second, but he let the moment pass, choosing not to retreat or deflect. Instead, he ducked his head and shook it, a tiny laugh slipping out.
“You’re impossible,” he said.
And then, finally, he let himself smile, showing Reese the evidence of his growing feelings.
Chapter Seven
Something in Reese soften as he watched Sonny coax Hercules into taking a few more tentative steps across the damp grass. The sunlight catching the blond strands and turning them almost white in the light. He watched as Sonny guided both dogs around the perimeter of the yard. Delilah had ventured farther away, her nose working overtime as she explored. Hercules stayed closer, but his tail had started wagging in tentative arcs.
Sun warmed Reese’s shoulders. Birds called from the trees lining the fence, their songs punctuated by the distant sound of traffic. The grass under his feet was damp, soaking through his socks. He didn’t care. Everything felt peaceful.
His mate was here. Safe. Claimed. The dogs were healing under their care. For the first time in longer than Reese could remember, he was content.
“You know what’s weird?” Sonny asked, still focused on Hercules. The dog had found a patch of clover and was sniffing it. “I spent weeks watching these dogs suffer and thinking I was helpless, that there was nothing I could do that would actually matter. And now they’re here, in this beautiful yard, with actual medical care and people who give a damn about them.” He looked up at Reese finally, hazel eyes catching the sunlight. “That’s because of you.”
Moving closer, Reese cradled the back of Sonny’s head. The blond hair was soft between his fingers. “They matter because no one, not even dogs, deserved to be treated so inhumanely.”
“I feel the same way.” Sonny leaned into the touch, his eyes closing briefly. “I like that you feel the same way. It’s sweet. You’re sweet, which is hilarious considering you look like you could rip a phone book in half.”
“I could rip one in half.”
“See? That just proves my point.” Sonny’s smile widened, something playful entering his expression. “Big scary polar bear who can definitely rip up hefty books but won’t let me carry my own dogs inside because he’s worried I’ll hurt my back.”
“You’re too small to be carrying a fifty-pound dog.”
“I’m not that small. I’m perfectly average for a bunny shifter and just as strong as other nonhumans.” Sonny gestured at himself. “This is normal bunny proportions. You’re just abnormally large. Do you have to special order furniture? I bet you have to special order furniture.”
He pulled Sonny closer, ignoring his mate’s surprised sound. The pants were soaked through at the knees from the wet grass, clinging to Sonny’s legs. Reese could feel the warmth of his mate through the damp fabric where their bodies pressed together.
“We should walk them around the yard.” Sonny held Reese’s forearms. “Get them used to moving in open spaces. Dr. Sullivan said exercise would help with Hercules’s breathing, as long as we don’t push too hard.”
They walked slowly, Reese matching his stride to Sonny’s shorter steps. The dogs followed, Delilah limping, Hercules breathing hard but keeping pace. The warm air carried the scent of honeysuckle and pine from the mountains. The grass was thick under their feet, springy and wet.
Sonny talked as they slowly strode, his voice a steady stream of comments and questions. He pointed out a bird’s nest in one of the trees, wondered aloud if the dogs would eventually be comfortable enough to play, made a joke about Reese’s furniture that actually made Reese’s mouth curve slightly. His mate’s humor was witty, finding absurdity in situations without making them feel hopeless.
Reese was falling. The realization settled over him with startling clarity. It wasn’t just the bond or the claiming. It was something deeper. Sonny made him want things he’d stopped letting himself consider years ago. Permanence. Partnership. A future that extended beyond the next mission.
His mate was brave in ways that had nothing to do with physical strength. He’d stolen dogs from a hyena fighting ring knowing the consequences, run for days to keep them safe, then walked into a café full of predator shifters and asked for help. And now he was here, making jokes about furniture while coaxing traumatized dogs into trusting the world again.
Fuck if he wasn’t falling hard.
Sonny had stopped walking, his head tilted up to look at Reese. “The staring thing. It’s very distracting. I’m trying to focus on the dogs, and you’re just standing there looking at me like I’m some kind of puzzle you’re trying to solve.”
“Not a puzzle.” Reese touched Sonny’s jaw, thumb brushing across the soft skin. “Just enjoy watching you.”
