Page 25 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

Bodin

The shelter smelled faintly of cat litter and disinfectant, but Colby didn’t seem to notice. He was practically vibrating with energy as he moved from kennel to kennel, crouching down to coo at the animals, his eyes shining like it was Christmas morning.

I hung back, hands in my pockets, watching him with a warmth I didn’t recognize in myself.

A man like me didn’t get this kind of sweetness—not without breaking something along the way.

And yet, there he was. My Colby. Bouncing on his toes in front of a glass-fronted pen full of kittens, his face split in a grin as he pressed his fingertips to the glass.

“Look at them, Pappa!” he called, though his gaze never left the cluster of tiny multi-colored furballs tumbling over each other. His voice had that lilting, breathless quality that made me want to bundle him up and put him in my pocket.

I gave him the smallest smile. “I see them, sweetheart.”

He giggled under his breath, crouching low so one of the kittens batted at his shoelace through the crack at the bottom.

God, he was beautiful like this—unguarded, glowing, all that innocence in sharp contrast to the dark, greedy thoughts clawing through me.

I wanted to bottle the sound of his laugh, wanted to pin down the look in his eyes so no one else could ever make him feel this way.

A shelter employee walked up, leaning down to murmur something to him. Colby’s head tilted, then he nodded quickly, curiosity lighting up his face. Without a second thought, he followed the young man down a narrow hallway.

My jaw tightened. I hadn’t heard a damn word. Didn’t fucking like that. I moved after them, my strides longer, closing the distance until I rounded the corner.

And there he was—stopped dead in front of a small pen, wide-eyed and trembling like the air had been knocked out of him. Inside the enclosure, nestled in hay, sat a rabbit. A creamy white, with large spots of light brown, soft ears drooping to the sides, its nose twitching as it peered up at Colby.

Colby’s hands pressed against the glass, his breath fogging a small circle. He looked back at me then, tears already brimming in his eyes, his lips parted in wonder.

The sight slammed into me like a fist to the ribs. My boy. My precious boy.

I stepped up beside him, resting a steadying hand on the small of his back. “Sweetheart,” I murmured, voice lower now, “you want this one?”

He gave the tiniest nod, not trusting his voice.

I kissed the top of his hair, then turned to the employee, my tone clipped, decisive. “How much for the rabbit? And where do I buy everything he’ll need? The right enclosure, toys, food—all of it.”

The worker blinked at me, startled, but nodded in response. “We—we can set you up with a starter kit here, actually. And I can give you a list of what else to pick up at a pet store.”

“Good,” I said shortly. My hand smoothed over Colby’s back as I glanced down at him again. His lashes were wet, his expression still caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. I bent low enough that my words brushed against his ear. “It’s yours, baby. You hear me? Whatever you want—it’s yours.”

The bunny twitched its nose again, and Colby made a soft sound that was almost a sob.

I held him closer, my chest tightening with a possessive swell so sharp it nearly hurt.

The employee gave me a careful smile, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of me, then crouched to open the enclosure.

“We just like to make sure it’s a good fit,” he explained softly. “Sometimes bunnies don’t take to certain people.”

I bristled at the implication—at the thought of anything rejecting my boy. But before I could snap, the man was already scooping the little creature up, tucking it gently against his chest.

Colby stood frozen, both hands clutched together in front of him, like he didn’t dare believe this was real. His lip trembled, eyes glistening with that fragile, childlike hope that always gutted me.

And then—

“There you go,” the worker murmured, carefully transferring the bundle of fur into Colby’s waiting arms.

Colby gasped, the sound breaking on his breath as the bunny settled against his chest. His fingers fumbled at first, like he was scared of holding too tight, but then he found his rhythm, one hand cradling the back while the other stroked the impossibly soft fur.

“Oh my god…” His voice cracked, and I nearly sank to my knees at the sight of it—my boy trembling, tears slipping over his lashes, smiling like the world had finally given him something that couldn’t be snatched away.

“Pa— Bodin ,” He looked up at me like I’d hung the stars in the damn sky. “Bodin, it likes me.”

My throat went tight, something fierce and dangerous clawing through my chest. No one—no one—should ever be allowed to see him like this but me.

I stepped closer, cupping the back of his head as I bent down, brushing my lips against his damp cheek. “Of course it does, sweetheart,” I murmured, low enough for only him to hear. “Everything good in this world belongs with you.”

The rabbit shifted, nestling deeper into his arms with a little sigh of its own. Colby gave a watery laugh, clutching it tighter like he never wanted to let go.

The employee said something about paperwork and supplies, but I barely heard it. My focus was entirely on Colby—on the way he looked holding that rabbit, fragile and overflowing, like his heart was finally too whole to hide anymore.

And I knew, with bone-deep certainty, that I’d burn the entire world to ash before I let anything take this from him.

I followed closely behind Colby, my hand brushing lightly against his back, though I didn’t need the contact—every instinct I had was already tethered to him, every sense attuned to his movements.

His eyes were wide, still sparkling, and every tiny reaction—every breathless laugh, every tremor of excitement—made my chest tighten with a possessive ache.

The worker led us to a small office where adoption forms waited, but I hardly noticed the paperwork.

Colby was practically glowing as he clutched the rabbit to his chest, stroking its soft fur with gentle fingers.

My jaw tightened when the worker reached out to point something out about the rabbit’s fur—I saw Colby flinch, just slightly, at the touch, and my stomach twisted with an almost feral irritation.

“Don’t,” I murmured under my breath, just low enough for Colby to hear, my voice a growl that surprised even me.

He looked up, wide-eyed, and I softened immediately, pressing a finger under his chin to tilt his gaze toward mine.

“Sorry, baby. Focus on your bunny while I take care of the adult stuff, okay?”

He swallowed and nodded, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips, and I felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the sun or the room.

I watched as he traced the curve of the bunny’s ear with delicate precision, and in my mind I saw the two of them sprawled across our living room floor later, surrounded by Colby’s stuffed animals, a chaotic tangle of paws, fur, and giggles.

I could see him—little Colby, knees tucked under him, bunny in lap, messy hair falling over his flushed cheeks, eyes sparkling like they always did when he was entirely himself, entirely happy. And I would protect that. Everything about that. With my life if I had to.

“Sign here,” the worker said, handing me a pen. I barely glanced at the form, my grip firm on Colby’s tiny hand as he adjusted the rabbit in his lap. Every instinct screamed to mark this as ours, to seal it with my presence, to make sure no one could ever reach between us.

I scrawled my name with deliberate force, my eyes flicking to Colby every second. He caught my gaze, and I could see the unspoken question in his tear-brimmed eyes.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head before I handed the pen back. The worker gave a polite nod, clearly sensing the intensity radiating from me, and I almost didn’t care. Colby was mine, and the bunny was his, and nothing else mattered in that moment.

The worker, clearly more comfortable with speaking to Colby over me, addressed him as he shared some facts about our new pet.

“Like I was saying earlier, the shelter got her last month. From what we gathered, she was given up simply because the family’s children were refusing to take care of her, and I guess the parents didn’t want the responsibility.

The mom dropped her off to us—said there was nothing wrong with her, she was good with the children when they bothered to play with her.

Her check-up was normal, so she’s in perfect health.

She’s a Mini Lop, which basically just refers to her floppy ears and small size. ”

“Pilsby has floppy ears too,” Colby stage-whispered to me, making me laugh.

As we gathered the paperwork and prepared to leave, I draped an arm possessively over Colby’s shoulders, loving the way he leaned into me, small and pliant. I caught the way he looked down at the bunny, who was now in a carrier, eyes wide with awe and happiness.

“Ready to go home, baby?” I murmured, voice soft but possessive.

He nodded, holding the small carrier to his chest. I could already picture the two of them together in our living room—laughing, playing, curled up in little chaos. And I would make sure that vision became everyday, for as long as I could breathe.

* * *

We stepped through the front door, Colby clutching the carrier like it was a treasure more precious than anything else in the world. His eyes gleamed, and I couldn’t stop the surge of possessive tenderness that hit me every time he looked so small, so vulnerable, so utterly happy.

“Careful, baby,” I murmured, sliding my arm around his shoulders, keeping him close as we walked to the living room. “We’re going to get her all set up, okay?”