Page 90 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

His voice trails off as he rethinks what he’s about to say. Anxious fingers tap on the dresser behind him.

“It was a car crash. It was sudden. I’ve had time to grieve and get past it.”

Except when it comes to your need to control everyone and everything around you.

Oof, harsh, Iz.

At least I kept that comment inside.

“So, now you know. You both do,” Trick says and directs the second comment to Mason.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Mason replies.

“You don’t have to say anything. She asked; I answered. Everyone has a past. Does that help?”

Did it?

I nod automatically to reassure him but . . .

Maybe.

Not really.

As I take them in, really examine them, their eagerness seeps into my senses and infects my resolve.

They all want the heat to be true.

Their scents twine around each other like a warm, comforting embrace, and my whoremones rage and demand to acquiesce.

“I’m not in a heat,” I repeat. “This... whatever it is seems to be set off by being around the three of you.”

Vin and Trick share a long look they don’t explain.

“Do you want us to leave?” Vin asks.

“Don’t you dare step foot out of that fucking door.”

Oop.

“I, uh, I mean... I don’t know what I mean.”

Keep it the fuck together, Iz. I’m better than this. My control has never been tenuous so suddenly.

The guys have really fucked me up.

My legs give out and I collapse onto the floor in front of Trick’s pristine, crisp-cornered sheets.

The man in question settles in front of me. He cups my face and I rub my cheek against his palm.

“You’re fighting it,” he says.

I nod into his touch.

“Why?”

“None of you are choosing this. I’m not even choosing it. You don’t know what my heats are like. It’s not a pleasant experience.”

Mason settles in beside us and places a placating hand on my thigh. Vin sits on our other side and adds his touch.

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