Page 51 of Chased

We already do, his wolf remarked.

Shut up. And anyway, we have to go on missions and stuff. We can’t babysit her all the time.

It seemed like forever before they finally arrived at Madison’s cabin. The guys had obviously done what they were told—his fatigue pants were hung over the porch rail and all the lights were on.

He snagged the pants as he went by, but he had to put Madison somewhere that she’d feel safe before he could get dressed.

Inside, they’d started a fire in the woodstove to take the chill out of the air, and there was a med kit on the kitchen table. Also a bottle of their good whiskey, clearly as a peace offering.

He’d try feeling fucking peaceful once he knew Madison would be okay. He was still scared she wouldn’t be able to turn human again. Sometimes panicked shifters got stuck in their animal form and couldn’t get back.

Holding the shivering bunny in one arm, Sanchez ran warm water into the kitchen sink and added some dish soap. Putting her in the water, he washed off her scratches, trying not to hurt her any more. They weren’t as bad as he’d thought, but he’d put some ointment from the med kit on them anyway because he didn’t know if prey shifters had the same kind of accelerated healing and infection resistance as predators did.

He found a towel and dried her off, applied the ointment, and then put her down on the couch. She burrowed into the corner, still trembling a little.

Well, of course she was. He was still naked. That didn’t normally terrify women, but this was a special circumstance.

He put on his pants. That didn’t seem to help either.

Shit. She was naked too, and probably felt too vulnerable to Change back. He draped a blanket partially over her and turned his back. “You can Change now.” He didn’t hear anything, and after a minute he peeked over his shoulder.

Still a rabbit.

He should probably leave. She was probably scared of him. He was another wolf, after all.

He took a step toward the door, but it was like there was an invisible wall there or something. He couldn’t walk away. He didn’t want to walk away. He just wanted her to be okay.

He turned back around, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

He didn’t know what to do. What did bunnies even need?

Barbecue sauce? his wolf said, still smarting over getting his butt bitten.

Not funny, he told it savagely.

She needs to be protected, his wolf said. Obviously. We should protect her. We are good at that.

Apparently, not so much. Looking at her on the couch, soft and scared and quivering, broke whatever excuse he had for a heart.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

Grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the table, he opened it and took a swig. Then another.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the couch, lifted up the damn bunny, and held her against his chest the way he had coming down the mountain.

This time, she didn’t panic and try to get away. And she didn’t bite him. That was good, right? Maybe not. Maybe it just meant she was beyond help.

A burrow, he thought suddenly. Maybe she needed a burrow. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around them, so she was surrounded in warmth and darkness.

Her heart was going a mile a minute, and she was breathing fast.

Okay, now what?

Lick her like a cub? his wolf said dubiously.

Definitely not. Especially not with the images that was bringing to mind. Non-rabbity ones.

Instead, he tentatively began to stroke her fur underneath the blanket. It was all silky and warm, and those silly floppy ears were ridiculously soft. He petted them gently, stroking them down against her back.