The anger drained out of Sonny as quickly as it had surfaced, leaving him even more drained than before. The room was doing that tilting thing again, the edges of his vision blurry.
The hand on Sonny’s back guided him toward a chair. “Sit before you fall over.”
Sonny plopped down, thankful he was about to get food in his belly and finally rest. The running was over. Now he could fully concentrate on Hercules and Delilah’s healing.
Chapter Three
The bed underneath Sonny was softer than anything he’d slept on in months, maybe years. His body felt heavy, disconnected, like someone had filled his limbs with sand while he’d slept. As he lay there, he blinked at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was.
Reese’s house. Right. The dogs.
Slowly, he sat up, his body protesting every movement. Someone had removed his shoes, his jacket folded neatly on a chair near the door.
There was zero memory of getting into this bed, which meant he’d probably passed out face-first into his food at the kitchen table. Excellent. Nothing said “attractive mate material” like falling unconscious mid-meal.
The room was small but felt lived-in, sunlight painting everything in shades of gold and cream. This place felt protected. Secure. Like nothing bad could reach him here.
The dogs.
Delilah and Hercules were downstairs, possibly terrified with so many predators under one roof.
I sure as hell am.
How long had he been asleep? What if they’d needed him and no one had come to get him?
With that thought, Sonny swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. The floor was cool under his bare feet, solid hardwood that didn’t creak when he tested his weight. Right, because you weigh enough to make anything creak, and what is that smell?
Shit, that’s me.
His clothes were rumpled and dirty, funk clinging to him like a second skin. Shower now. He didn’t want the people who lived here to drop like flies from his nauseous scent.
Maybe he could borrow clean clothes from Ryan, who was about his size. The guy carried some extra weight, but Sonny could make the clothes work.
The attached bathroom was freaking huge! He gaped at the walk-in shower with multiple heads and temperature controls he prayed didn’t require an engineering degree to operate.
“Only one way to find out,” he muttered while undressing. Lucky him, it only took five minutes to figure it out.
The water was hot, with pressure strong enough to beat against his sore body.
“Work those muscles, you beautiful multi-headed god,” he groaned, standing under the spray so long, his skin should’ve pruned as steam filled the bathroom, turning everything moist and hazy.
Sonny grabbed a soap bottle and squeezed some into his palm. The gel reminded him of Reese. His body responded, cock hardening in his mate’s shower.
For a moment, he considered jerking off, but the smell of grime and sweat killed the thought. Instead, he scrubbed every inch of skin, then worked the shampoo into a lather. The conditioner situation was confusing. Why did hair need multiple products? It was hair. It grew out of a head. Sonny had always used inexpensive shampoo and conditioner, assuming they all worked the same. But none of the products he’d purchased ever smelled this good.
After rinsing his hair, he cut the shower off, then dried with a towel that was soft and thick and warm from hanging on a heated rack. The mirror had somehow de-fogged itself, revealing Sonny’s reflection in unforgiving detail.
Fuck. I look terrible. Pale skin made paler by stress. Dark circles were under his hazel eyes, and his blond hair stuck up in wet spikes that refused to lie flat no matter how much he tried to smooth them down.
Buddy, you need a few more days of sleep and a lot more food. You look like total crap.
Problems that would have to wait. Sonny wrapped the towel around his waist and walked back into the bedroom, hoping someone had magically provided clean clothes while he scrubbed away the funk.
No such luck.
His dirty jeans and shirt lay where he’d left them, looking even worse in daylight, but he refused to go to Ryan while naked to ask for clothes.
Instead, Sonny rummage through the drawers of a tall dresser, pulling out a dark gray T-shirt and black sweatpants. The fabric was soft and smelled amazing. His bunny was excited to wear their mate’s clothes, wanting to be surrounded by that scent.
