Chapter Four
After the dogs were loaded into the truck, Reese climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the sound rumbling through the cab.
The drive to the clinic didn’t take long.
Sonny spent most of it watching the streets of Crimson Hollow pass them by.
Sunlight glinted off surfaces as people walked on the sidewalks with coffee cups and shopping bags.
Dogs on leashes. Kids on bikes. Normal things in small towns where the residents didn’t have to run from hyena shifters.
Sonny plucked at the fabric of the sweatpants, Reese’s scent clinging to the fabric. That clean cold scent that made his bunny want to curl up and stay there. His mate drove, large hands steady on the wheel. His eyes tracked the road and the mirrors and probably a hundred other things.
At least the bear was cautious.
“You’re staring.” Reese’s deep, smooth voice cut through the quiet cab.
Busted. Heat rushed to Sonny’s face. He quickly glanced away, concentrating on the glove compartment instead. “I wasn’t staring. I was just looking. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Staring implies intensity. I was casually observing.” Sonny could feel his ears burning now. His dang mouth kept moving without permission. “You know, the way one observes traffic patterns. Or cloud formations. Nothing weird about it.”
Reese made an amused sound as the corner of his mouth quirked. “Cloud formations.”
“Fascinating stuff.” Sonny was making it worse. He could feel himself making it worse. “I’m going to stop talking now.”
“Don’t.” Reese glanced at him, those ice-blue eyes finding Sonny’s face for a moment before returning to the road. “I like hearing you talk.”
You’d be the first.
The clinic appeared ahead on the left. Reese pulled into the lot and parked.
Sonny opened his door and climbed out. The air was cool, carrying the scent of flowers from the baskets hanging near the clinic entrance. He inhaled the fresh mountain air, glad he’d run to this remote town.
Reese was already at the back door of the truck, opening it for the dogs.
Delilah lifted her head when he reached for her, her tail giving a weak wag.
Reese scooped her up with the same careful gentleness he’d shown before.
The dog settled against him like she belonged there, her injured leg hanging at an angle that kept pressure off the limb.
Sonny helped Hercules climb down. The dog’s movements were stiff, his damaged ribs making each step painful.
He leaned heavily against Sonny’s legs once his paws hit the pavement, seeking support.
Sonny’s hand found the scarred fur behind Hercules’s remaining ear, scratching the spot that always made the dog’s back leg twitch.
“Ready?” Reese was already moving toward the clinic entrance.
Sonny followed with Hercules limping beside him.
The dog’s nails clicked against the pavement with each step.
His breathing was labored, every inhale visible in the way his sides expanded.
The x-rays would show how bad the rib damage really was.
Sonny already knew it wasn’t good based on how Hercules moved, but seeing it on film would make it real in a way that scared him.
The clinic door opened before they reached it. Dr. Sullivan stood there with Ryan beside him, both of them wearing matching expressions of professional concern. The vet’s eyes swept over both dogs, taking in their condition with the practiced assessment.
“Bring them straight back to the exam rooms.” The vet held the door wider, making space for Reese’s massive frame. “I’ve got the x-ray machine warmed up for Hercules. We’ll start with him and then check Delilah’s infection.”
The clinic interior smelled like antiseptic and something floral that was probably coming from a diffuser somewhere. Soft music played from hidden speakers, classical guitar that was probably meant to calm anxious animals.
Ryan led them down the hallway to the exam rooms.
The space was larger than the exam room from last night. A padded table dominated the center, positioned under a large machine that hung from the ceiling. Lead aprons hung on hooks near the door.
“Set him on the table,” Dr. Sullivan said to Reese, already pulling on gloves. “We’ll need to position him on his side to get clear images of the ribs.”
Reese lowered Delilah onto a dog bed in the corner first, making sure she was comfortable. Then he moved to where Sonny stood, lifting Hercules onto the table. The dog’s front legs scrabbled against the smooth surface, but Reese calmed him down, talking softly to the dog.
Dr. Sullivan gently positioned Hercules on his side. The dog’s scarred hide showed every injury he’d sustained in the fighting ring. Bite marks. Claw marks. Places where the fur had never grown back properly. Sonny wanted to cry looking at the damage, at the evidence of forced violence.
“I need everyone except Ryan to step out.” Dr. Sullivan was pulling one of the lead aprons over his scrubs. “The radiation exposure is minimal, but I’d rather not take chances.”
Sonny’s feet didn’t want to move. His body had planted itself beside the exam table, unwilling to leave Hercules alone with strangers. The dog needed him there, needed someone familiar while scary things happened to his body.
“He’ll be fine,” Ryan said softly. He moved to Hercules’s head, his hand stroking the dog’s scarred ear. “We’re just taking pictures. It doesn’t hurt. Five minutes and you can come right back in.”
Logic said Ryan was right. The x-rays wouldn’t hurt Hercules. The dog would be more comfortable without Sonny’s anxiety feeding into his own fear. But his bunny was screaming that leaving was wrong, that abandoning the dog now was a betrayal of the trust Hercules had placed in him.
Reese’s hand settled on Sonny’s arm. His mate’s presence wrapped around him like a physical barrier between him and the rising panic. “Come on. We’ll wait right outside.”
Sonny let himself be guided toward the door. His eyes stayed on Hercules until the last possible moment, watching as Ryan stroked the dog’s head. Then he was in the hallway and the door was closing and Hercules was on the other side without him.
The hallway was quieter than the exam room had been. He could hear the music playing from the lobby speakers, along with voices from somewhere toward the front.
Reese stood beside him, close enough that Sonny could feel the heat radiating from his body. The warmth felt good against Sonny’s skin, made him want to press even closer, the way the dogs always did.
“He’s scared.” Sonny commented while glancing around. “Hercules. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He just knows strangers are touching him and I’m not there.”
“Ryan’s good with animals.” Reese’s gaze was fixed on the closed door. “He’ll keep Hercules calm.”
Sonny nodded, but still tense.
“Thank you,” he heard himself say. The words felt inadequate for everything Reese had done. “For helping. For bringing us here. For not making me deal with it on my own.”
Reese held his gaze. “You’re my mate. Of course I’m helping.”
The statement was simple, matter-of-fact. Like helping was a given. Like there was no question Reese would do anything else.
The movement was subtle, the kind of shift that might have gone unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t paying attention.
Except Sonny was always paying attention, wired for it, every muscle and nerve stretched to the limit.
A few inches was all Reese needed to close the gap between them.
Sonny responded instantly. His pulse sped up, every cell straining toward Reese.
Reese’s eyes locked onto his.
“It just is,” Reese said, the words slow and careful. “You’re mine.” There was no inflection of possessiveness, just a flat assertion of fact. Sonny felt the words settle deep in his bones. “That means I protect you, and anything you care about, no exceptions.”
Sonny didn’t know what to do with any of this.
The room, the clinic, the faint chemical tang of disinfectant and lemon, the distant sounds…
It all blurred at the edges. It was ridiculous how quickly his body adapted to the idea of being protected, how desperately it wanted to relax into it, even if his mind was still screaming it was too much.
He tried to pull away, or at least tried to convince himself he should, but every instinct told him to stay right where he was, just inside of Reese’s gravitational field. “I don’t need protecting,” he mumbled, but it sounded less like a protest and more like a lie he almost believed.
Reese didn’t argue. Just stood there, solid and unmoving, as if he could wait out Sonny’s resistance the same way cliffs outlasted waves. The silence between them was full with things Sonny didn’t know how to express.
Down the hallway, someone laughed—a sharp, startling sound—and Sonny flinched.
Noticed the way Reese’s eyes tracked the direction of the noise, then slid back to Sonny with a softness that was almost embarrassing.
It was the first time Sonny realized Reese wasn’t just saying the words out of obligation. He meant them.
Sonny caved a little, just enough to let the warmth in. He looked up, meeting Reese’s gaze.
“You make it sound simple,” Sonny whispered.
Reese shrugged, the movement rolling through the thick muscle of his shoulders. “It is,” he said with easy confidence. “At least on my end.”
Sonny stood there, not leaning in but not pulling away, just letting the shared air and the weight of Reese’s presence press against him. He realized Reese was waiting for Sonny’s permission.
The cut-glass blue of Reese’s eyes softened. “The bond doesn’t care about timing, hon.” Reese’s voice was low. His problems became Sonny’s problems instantly, but Reese didn’t let the thought settle that way.
Instead, he leaned into it, crowding Sonny’s defenses with the sheer inevitability of his claim. “Your problems are my problems, and I don’t let anyone or anything hurt what’s mine.”
His entire life Sonny had never belonged. The idea was so foreign he didn’t know where to file it.
Still, he looked up at Reese, searching for mockery, for the sharp edge of a joke, but all he found was the open sincerity of a man who believed what he said down to the bone.
His mate stepped a fraction closer, tilting his head until he was looking Sonny straight in the eyes.
“I mean it,” he said, softer but no less intense.
“Nobody gets to hurt you. Not while I’m around.
” He might’ve sounded threatening if he weren’t so damn gentle about it, as if protecting Sonny was less a duty than a privilege.
Sonny wanted to argue, wanted to say that being claimed was just another way of being trapped, but the words got stuck somewhere behind his lips.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the ache in his chest expand with every breath.
He was used to being alone in a crowd, to filling up empty space with nervous chatter and laughter, but here, in this hallway with Reese and a cracked tile beneath his heel, he was exposed.
There was no script, no performance, just the raw, trembling truth of being wanted.
He tried to summon up the old bravado, to smirk or shrug it off, but Reese just stood there, waiting him out. The silence was almost unbearable. Sonny’s ears picked up the faintest shuffle of feet from the exam room, the hum of the lights overhead, the echo of his own heartbeat.
It would’ve been easier if Reese had made a joke or looked away or given him space to run.
But his mate didn’t even blink. And the longer Sonny stood there, the more he believed that maybe Reese was telling the truth. That maybe belonging didn’t have to mean surrendering his whole self but could mean finding a place to land, just for a little while.
Swallowing, he forced himself to hold Reese’s gaze. The intensity was almost too much, but Sonny let himself be seen.
He didn’t have a response. Not one that made sense, anyway. And Reese seemed content to wait, like he had all the time in the world.