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.
“Calm down, idiot, and focus on more important things, like the dogs,” he muttered.
In bare feet, he headed into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Where was Reese? Had he slept in the same bed last night, rising before Sonny had woken up?
The dogs. The thought shoved everything else to the back of his mind, his focus returning to Delilah and Hercules. They needed him more than Sonny needed to process his feelings about borrowed sweatpants and his mate’s whereabouts.
As he made his way downstairs, Sonny noticed how quiet the house was.
His hand trailed along the banister, smooth wood under his palm.
Everything here felt solid, like the people who lived here had put down roots and weren’t planning to move anytime soon.
The concept was foreign to Sonny, who’d spent the last few years bouncing between temporary situations.
The guest room door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it wider and stepped inside, eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. Both dogs lifted their heads when he entered, tails beating out a rhythm on the bed as they wagged. They were still pressed together, exactly where he’d left them last night.
Ryan was there too, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the dogs. He looked up when Sonny entered, his expression shifting from focused to welcoming. “Morning. I was just about to give them their meds.”
Sonny relaxed at the sight of them looking relatively comfortable.
Delilah’s injured leg was still swollen but no worse than yesterday.
Hercules was breathing easier, the pain medication probably helping with his damaged ribs.
Both animals looked cleaner than they had, like someone had taken the time to wipe down their coats.
“You been here all night?” Sonny moved farther into the room and dropped to his knees beside the dogs, his hands immediately moving over them to check for problems.
“Most of it.” Ryan reached for the medication bottles lined up on the floor beside him. “I dozed in the chair for a few hours but wanted to make sure they were okay. The female, Delilah, she was restless around three. Kept trying to get up and walk around.”
Guilt twisted in Sonny’s stomach. He’d been asleep upstairs in a comfortable bed while the dogs needed monitoring. While Ryan, who had no obligation to help, had stayed up most of the night watching them. “I should have been here. You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”
“You were asleep before you hit the stairs.” Ryan’s lips quivered, like he was holding back a smile. “Besides, I don’t mind. Animals are kind of my thing.”
Sonny probed Delilah’s injured leg, checking the swollen tissue. The infection felt stable, not spreading but not improving either. The antibiotics needed more time to work. He moved to Hercules next, checking the male’s ribs, feeling for any signs of what the vet warned about.
“Dr. Sullivan is good at what he does.” Ryan was measuring out liquid medication. “If he says they’ll be okay with proper care, he means it. The man’s never wrong about animals.”
“How long have you worked with him?” Sonny accepted the syringe Ryan handed him and positioned himself near Delilah’s head.
The dog’s mouth opened without protest when he pressed the syringe against her gums, letting him squirt the antibiotics inside.
Good girl. She was learning to trust the medicine would help.
“About two years. I’m his vet tech.” Ryan prepared the next dose, this one for Hercules.
Sonny handed the empty syringe back and took the full one. The male dog was more suspicious of the medication, trying to turn his head away. Sonny had to be patient, waiting for the right moment to get the syringe into his mouth. “You live here though. With Grayson and the others.”
Something soft crossed Ryan’s expression, made his features go warm in a way that suggested feelings ran deep. “Grayson told me you were a shifter. He’s my mate. I’m still getting used to the whole forever-person thing but it’s good. Really good.”
“Is it weird?” Sonny stayed busy with the dogs, giving Hercules scratches behind his one ear. “Being human and having a shifter mate?”
“It was, at first,” Ryan admitted. “But I’ve never been with anyone who treats me the way Grayson does.”
Sonny relaxed against the bed, thinking of Reese and wondering if his mate would ask him to move in. Seemed the logical thing to do, but Sonny never trusted logical.