Chapter 21 #2
He stood there, chest heaving, sweat dampening his fur, and felt something crack open inside him. Something that had been locked away for six years, something he’d convinced himself he didn’t need.
Fuck, I missed this.
He set down the guitar and raised a hand to the crowd before stepping down off the stage.
And nearly walked straight into a wall of women.
They’d materialized at the edge of the stage like magic—a cluster of maybe eight or nine of them, young and pretty and practically vibrating with interest. Human women, mostly, though he caught the scent of at least one fox Other in the group.
They pressed forward as he approached, their eyes bright, their body language unmistakable.
“Oh my god, that was amazing.”
“I can’t believe we’re seeing Ben Holloway live!”
“I have all your old albums. I used to listen to them in college.”
“Are you playing anywhere else? I’d love to catch another show.”
“Can I buy you a drink? There’s a private area behind the food stalls…”
The offers washed over him, each one accompanied by a flutter of lashes or a strategic lean forward or the brush of fingers against his arm.
Mating season pulsed in his blood, that primal instinct that had driven him to such excess in his younger years.
His body registered the women as potential partners, noted their availability, their interest, their willingness.
And felt nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
No spark. No pull. No temptation. Just the vague awareness that they existed and the complete certainty that he didn’t want any of them.
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt.
For six years, he’d assumed his celibacy was a matter of willpower.
He’d believed he was constantly fighting against his baser instincts, that every day was a battle to keep himself under control.
He’d structured his entire life around avoiding temptation, convinced that any slip would send him spiraling back into old patterns.
But standing here now, surrounded by willing women with mating season singing in his veins, he understood the truth.
It wasn’t willpower. It wasn’t control.
It was simply because none of them were her.
His eyes swept across the square, searching. Past the food stalls and the game booths, past the clusters of festival-goers, past the paper lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. Where was she? She’d said she’d be in the crowd, said she’d be watching, said—
There.
Sara stood near the edge of the square, talking to Posy. The lantern light caught her hair, turning it to burnished copper. She was laughing at something her friend had said, her whole face lit up with joy, and his heart clenched so hard he forgot how to breathe.
Mine.
The women were still talking at him, still pressing close, still offering their numbers and their company and their beds. He didn’t hear a word of it. He stepped forward, and they parted around him like water around a stone.
He walked straight across the square. The crowd noticed. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A path opened up before him, people stepping aside instinctively as he moved with single-minded purpose towards the woman on the other side.
Sara looked up and their eyes met.
He saw the moment she registered his expression—the intensity, the certainty, the raw need. Her lips parted. Her cheeks flushed. She took a step towards him just as he reached her.
“Ben—”
He kissed her.
Not a gentle kiss. Not a careful kiss. Not the kind of kiss meant for public consumption.
This was a claiming kiss, a brand burned into both their souls for everyone to see.
He cupped her face in his hands and poured every ounce of feeling into it—the terror and the joy and the overwhelming rightness of choosing her, only her, always her.
She made a soft sound against his mouth and melted into him. Her hands fisted in his shirt and she kissed him back with equal fervor, matching his intensity, giving as good as she got.
Somewhere in the background, he heard Flora cackle and Posy’s delighted squeal. He heard the whispers spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
He didn’t care.
Let them look. Let them talk. Let the whole damn town know that the grumpy rabbit Other who’d spent six years hiding from the world had finally found something worth coming out of hiding for.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, her eyes were bright with tears.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi.” His thumb traced her cheekbone. “Told you I’d find you in the crowd.”
“You were incredible.”
“I know.” He kissed her again, softer this time. “I could feel you watching the whole time. It was like… like you were right there with me. Every note, every word.”
“I was.” She pressed her forehead to his. “I’ve never seen you like that. So free. So happy.”
“I haven’t been like that in years.” His voice roughened. “I forgot what it felt like. Being up there, making music, sharing it with people who actually feel it…” He shook his head. “I spent so long running from that part of myself. I was convinced it would destroy me if I let it back in.”
“And now?”
He looked at her—this woman who’d believed in him when he couldn’t believe in himself, who’d pushed him gently but relentlessly towards the thing he needed most, who’d given him a reason to stop hiding.
“Now I know the truth.” He pulled her closer, tucking her against his chest where she belonged.
“The music was never the problem. I was. I was chasing the wrong things, trying to fill a void that couldn’t be filled with crowds or fame or meaningless encounters.
” His lips brushed her temple. “I was looking for something that didn’t exist until you walked into my life with a plate of brownies and a smile. ”
She gave a watery laugh. “That’s very romantic for a grumpy bunny.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Too late.” She nodded towards the crowd still watching them with undisguised interest. “Pretty sure the whole town just saw you cross the square like a man possessed and kiss me senseless.”
“Good.” His arms tightened around her. “Then they’ll know better than to try anything.”
“Possessive much?”
“Extremely.” He nipped at her earlobe, gratified by her sharp intake of breath. “You’re mine, Sara Cartwright. And I’m yours. And I want everyone in this town to know it.”
“I think they got the message.”
“Just making sure.” He pulled back enough to meet her eyes. “Time to go home.”
“To our nest?”
“To our nest.” He lowered his voice, letting it roughen into a growl. “I want to show you exactly how grateful I am. For tonight. For believing in me. For everything.”
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Well. When you put it like that…”