Bad Bunny

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Love Bites

Nora

“Ouch!”

Blood wells on my fingertip, bright red and glistening. I shove it into my mouth before I drip onto the classroom floor.

“Bad bunny,” I scold, wagging my uninjured finger at the little white rabbit in the cage. “Very bad. I was just trying to pet you.”

The animal stares back with its beady pink eyes.

Its nose twitches.

Once.

Twice.

For a second, I swear the thing looks at me like it understands exactly what I said.

I huff, muttering under my breath, “Should’ve never got you. Now what am I supposed to do? You can’t bite the kids.”

I turn away, marching to my desk where I keep Band-Aids in the top drawer. With my back to the bunny, I thumb through the box, searching for the most adult option available.

Not Bluey.

Not Mickey Mouse.

Ah. Planets. That’ll work.

A dab of Neosporin and I slap the bandage on one-handed. As a kindergarten teacher, I’m a professional at this. Every day someone’s falling off the monkey bars or tripping over their own feet.

I press the bandage down firmly and wait for the bleeding to stop.

Why did I even get this dumb bunny?

It’d been strange from the start. A roadside stand with a handwritten sign that read: FREE BUNNIES FOR EESTER. I remember staring at the misspelling. Easter with two E’s. Behind a wobbly fold-out table stood an old man and a single wire cage.

“Good timing, young lady,” he called, which, considering I’m thirty-two, felt generous. But I’ll take it. “This is the last one.”

He shoved the cage toward me.

“You take him and I can go home to the missus.”

“Oh, no.” I hesitated. “I’m just looking.”

He tilted his head. Studied me. “What do ya do fer a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Teacher.” I tucked my long brown hair behind my ear and bent down, peering into the cage. “Little kids.”

Even I had to admit, the bunny was fluffy and cute. It stared right back at me.

“Ah.” The man smiled like that explained everything. “This one—” He patted the cage almost reverently. “He’s great with children. Loyal. Kind. Brave.”

Brave?

I blinked at that. What qualified a rabbit for bravery? Staring down a carrot before eating it?

“I don’t have a lot of extra time for a pet,” I said. “I’ve got my job. A boyfriend. My mom’s been sick.”

I slipped my finger through the wire and gently ran it along the creature’s flank.

Wow. So soft.

The little guy shivered, then settled onto his haunches, eyes closing. His sides moved in quick, shallow breaths.

“You have to take him,” the man said. “He’s perfect for you, miss. I can see it already. You’ll make a great pair.”

Still, I hesitated.

“Think about your kids,” the man pressed. “They’ll love him.”

He was right about that. I could see it already, walking into the classroom with the cage tucked under my arm. The kids lighting up. The squeals. The way they’d crowd around, eyes wide and shining.

We could do math problems about how much to feed him based on his weight. Talk about habitats. About camouflage. All the possibilities unfurled in my mind. How this bunny could revolutionize my classroom.

Maybe even raise standardized test scores…

“Okay.” I stood abruptly, a burst of purpose and excitement flooding through me, the kind I hadn’t felt in years. “I’ll take him.”

That’s how I came home with the bunny. To the house where I live with my mom, who smiled so wide when she saw him, full of joy.

She lifted a shaking hand to pet him, and I was glad in that moment.

Sure I’d made the right decision. I was even more sure when I carried him into my classroom the next day.

Friday. When the kids danced around the cage, shrieking with excitement. Just like I pictured.

Thank God he hadn’t bitten any of them.

Not when they reached into the cage to pet him. Not when we sat in a circle and let him hop between us, pausing to sniff our shoes. He even nibbled on Davie Gibbon’s shoelaces to everyone’s utter delight.

The bunny had been gentle with the kids. Almost careful.

But now he’s bitten me.

And I have no way to track that old man down.

No receipt. No phone number. I even drove past that same stretch of road on my way to school this morning. Empty.

Ugh.

That’s when I hear it.

A click.

The slow creak of metal behind me.

The lights flicker overhead, go out completely, then snap back on, brighter than before.

Then…

A man’s voice. Deep. Strangely accented. “Excuse me, Nora?”

I freeze. My eyes flick to the classroom door to my right.

Closed. Locked.

No one could’ve come in without passing me.

What the—

Slowly. Ever so slowly.

I turn.

And there, standing squarely on my alphabet floor mat, is the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

Like Nordic god hot.

At least six-five. Broad shoulders. Blond hair long enough to brush the back of his neck. Green eyes the color of unfurling leaves. A jaw that looks like it was carved by a wood-handled knife. Whittled by the finest artist.

And he’s…

Oh my God.

He’s naked.

Stark. Buck. Naked.

Not even trying to cover himself.

I do what any sane person would. I scream. Then I snatch the nearest object, my phone, and fling it at his head.

Hard.

He ducks before I can blink, smooth and fast, without breaking eye contact.

My phone slams into the wall behind him. The one the kids from my class decorated last week. Hand-drawn Easter eggs. Cross-eyed bunnies. Tiny chicks surrounded by pastel jelly beans.

The phone screen explodes with a sharp crack, glass raining down in glittering shards across the floor. One piece embeds in the wall, impaling a construction-paper rabbit right through the chest.

Great. I just murdered the Easter bunny.

The man glances at my phone, then back at me, one brow raised. “You appear to have destroyed your communication device.”

I don’t respond.

I’m too busy sprinting for the door.

He moves before I reach it, smooth, silent, stepping neatly into my path. He blocks the exit.

I skid to a stop.

The man is so large he practically fills the doorway. He studies me for a long moment with his eyebrows bunched like he’s surprised. “You are…unexpectedly fierce.”

“Move.” I stomp my foot, breathing hard. “Get out of my way.”

Now his expression shifts into one that’s almost regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he says calmly. “But I cannot allow that. You may attempt to alert your authorities.”

“You better believe I’m calling the police, you pervert.” I throw my hands up into a shaky karate stance, the kind I’ve only ever seen on television.

Uncannily composed, he shakes his head. “No. You will not do that.” His voice lowers, reverent. “The Great Eldryn guided my crossing and led me to you.”

Gibberish.

The man is speaking absolute gibberish.

“You’re insane,” I grit out, eyeing the giant. There’s no way I can overpower him.

“I am not,” he replies, looking dignified.

To my utter astonishment, he bows at the waist.

“I am Sorren Valdren, heir to the White Warren.” He straightens. “And you, Nora Hayes…” His gaze sharpens. “You are here to save me.” Then in a softer voice, less formal, he adds, “Please, I need your help.”

That’s when I hear my boyfriend’s voice, from down the hall, call out, “Nora? Are you still in your classroom?”

Saren, or Soren, or whatever his name is—his eyes widen slightly. “I should hide.”

Two steps and he’s at the storage closet by the door.

The one where I keep my coat, purse, and the vacuum I use to suck up glitter and construction paper scraps.

He presses a finger to his lips in a shh gesture and folds himself into the closet with surprising ease.

The door shuts. Not quite all the way. An inch-wide gap remains.

“Ah,” Seth says, as he steps into the room. “There you are.”

My attention snaps toward him.

Seth.

My boyfriend of six months.

He teaches fifth-grade math and is new to the school this year, the only male teacher on the staff. I’d been flattered when he started complimenting me. Said he liked my blue eyes. My yellow dress. I’d been even more flattered when he finally asked me out.

Overall, it had been…fine.

I mean, sure, Seth isn’t the best listener. And there was that one time he stood me up to go drinking with his buddies because he “lost track of time.” And yes, he does have a habit of correcting my grammar in texts.

But still, he’s handsome. He has a stable job. He talks about becoming principal one day like it’s inevitable.

On paper, we make sense.

I open my mouth, ready to tell him about the naked man hiding in my supply closet, when Seth claps a hand on my shoulder. “Nora. We need to talk.”

My stomach sinks, right down to the floor.

No conversation in the history of conversations has ever ended well after those words.

“Why?” I ask, and I hate the slight waver in my voice. “Is it about this weekend? Easter at your parents’ house?”

I’d been so excited to finally meet his family. It felt like confirmation that this was going somewhere. That we were serious. That I might finally see a deeper side of him, one I’d been hoping existed.

As much as I love being independent and teaching, I’ve always wanted a family. A big one. Kids running around, yelling and making a mess while my imaginary husband and I look on fondly.

I’d convinced myself Seth could be that man.

“I don’t think this weekend is such a good idea.” Seth walks over to one of the children’s desks and takes a seat. It should look ridiculous, a grown man folded into a tiny plastic chair, but at five-six he almost fits.

I follow and drop into the seat next to him. I have to turn sideways, my knees bumping the underside, my feet sticking out into the aisle. At five-nine, I’ve always been on the taller side.

I once asked Seth if the difference in our height bothered him.

He’d shrugged. “It’s fine. You can wear flats. No heels, though.”

At the time, I’d thought it was nice. That he was secure. Now, sitting here with my knees jammed against chipped laminate while he occupies the space comfortably, I’m not so sure.