Page 92 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

The demand blots out every other thought for a solid ten seconds.

Shuddering, I squeeze his hand.

“You don’t have to stay,” I reply in a hush.

“The only way I’m leaving is if one of you demands it. I’m only saying I’m nervous. This is all very new.”

Trick rests a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re here for you too, you know,” he tells Mason. “This is being a pack. We support each other.”

Staticky energy electrifies my blood. I love what they’re building.

You can be part of it.

No, I cannot.

It’s one heat. One moment to be with them.

One indulgence brought on by circumstance.

“One condition,” I say. “Not in the nest.”

I can’t be in the nest. It’s not mine.

Being in there makes me think it could be.

“That’s why we’re in Trick’s room. Something wrong, Izzy?”

“It’s not right.”

“What’s not right?”

“This room. It’s not right. It’s too dark. Too harsh. I want soft. Please make it soft.”

Another surge of desire rolls over my body and I whimper into Trick’s hand.

“Sorry, it’s a lot.”

“Let’s go in her room.”

Nest. I need the nest.

“I don’t want to be there either.”

Nest. I need the nest.

“In the living room, or—”

“Nest. Need the nest. Quiet. Soft. Comfortable. Now. I need it now . . . Can’t . . . ”

* * *

Mason

Izzy dissolves into a string of babbles that only half make sense.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask.

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