Page 5 of Hunny and the Bear (Bearly Yours #1)

Five

A fter a quick breakfast and clean up, Tank set the little cottontail onto the couch, reluctant to let her go. Her fur was thick and soft, and some possessive part of him enjoyed carrying her around in his arms.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, ignoring the irritation in his throat. He never talked this much, but after the visit from his brother this morning and the little rabbit refusing to shift back, he’d already overexerted himself by chatting with her, as limited as the conversation had been. He often went days in absolute silence, which worked out perfectly, as he relished his solitude.

Usually .

Now he was itching to converse with his house guest.

Hurrying up the stairs, Tank strode to his closet, ripping open the door and stepping inside the small room. He turned to the dresser on the right, opening the top drawer and pulling out a pair of boxer briefs and thick socks. Opening the next drawer, he grabbed a flannel and a pair of worn denim jeans. Dressing quickly, he put on a used pair of steel-toed boots before heading back downstairs.

Tank eyed the bunny, now lounging on the couch, before nodding toward the front door. “Gonna cut some wood.”

She raised her head from her paws, jumping down to the ground. Hopping over to the door, she looked at him expectantly.

He stared down at her, brows raised in surprise. She wanted to come with him?

“It’ll be boring out there.” He gripped the door handle slowly, waiting for her to change her mind. “Won’t be talking.” He pointed to his neck, his scars hidden by his long beard. She tracked the movement, nose twitching. “Throat hurts after a while,” he explained. Even now, his vocals sounded strained, too deep and gravelly, each word a small, painful stab.

In answer, she pawed at the door.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Opening the door, Tank waited diligently for her to hop through before following her out onto the porch. It was late in the morning now, with the sun shining brightly overhead. Despite its rays, there was a slight chill in the air, the weather brisk enough that even he felt mildly cold. He eyed his bunny carefully.

She seemed unbothered by the weather, so he grunted and moved to the side of the house where he had a large pile of logs waiting for him. Some were from fallen trees in the woods, others from trees he’d cut down in his spare time. As winter was approaching in a few months, he’d planned on stocking up on firewood for himself and his clan within the next eight weeks until winter struck.

But now, after his talk with Murphy, he had a feeling he’d be using this wood for something else. Discreetly, he watched his bunny hop around a few feet from him as he grabbed his axe handle, pulling it free from the earth.

If she planned on staying for any length of time, there wouldn’t be enough room in his cabin for her. Not as it was. But he’d built his home all on his own; he was more than capable of adding on a room. He could also build some furniture, so she wouldn’t need to sleep on the couch at night.

It’d be better for her and her kit that way.

As he lined up his axe with the center of the log, he wondered why he was being so presumptuous. She likely wouldn’t stay within his territory for anything more than another night, at most. And if she spoke with Murphy before then and decided to stay, Tank doubted she’d want to live with him. Why would she?

She barely knew him.

He frowned, suddenly irritated. And then his brows furrowed in confusion. Why did the thought of her leaving piss him off? Did he even want her to live with him? No.

Of course not .

She might smell good, and clearly he found her entertaining, but he enjoyed living alone. He preferred being isolated from everyone—that way he could pretend no one in his family pitied him for losing his true mate. He didn’t need a roommate, anyway, especially a pregnant female.

She wasn’t his responsibility, nor was her kit. In fact, he’d be doing himself a favor by going back inside and stopping his own foolishness before it even began.

Without missing a beat, Tank swung the axe, cutting through the log like butter. Tossing the pieces of wood aside, he grabbed another log and dropped it onto the stump, slicing it in half just as easily. The bunny stopped her frolicking, finding a thick patch of damp grass and nestling down into it. She watched as he got to work, falling into a pattern and moving like a well-oiled machine until he had a neat stack of wood.

He’d need a lot more wood than this though.

She shivered, drawing his attention as she shifted slightly on her feet before settling down again.

Was she cold? She was tiny in this form, and even though she was a shifter, he doubted she could maintain enough body heat in these temperatures for any extended period.

Propping his axe along the stump, Tank removed his flannel as he walked over to her. With his free hand, he scooped her up, enjoying her sweet scent of honey, lavender, and vanilla. Dropping the flannel onto the ground, he set her on top of it. Next, he crouched down, fluffing the piece of clothing up in case she wanted to burrow into it.

“Good now?” he asked, his eyes locking onto the crown of her head as she leaned forward, nuzzling his palm with her nose.

He’d take that as a yes.

Never in his life had he been so tuned into someone before, and he hadn’t even spoken with her. He didn’t even know what her name was or what she looked like. Yet here he was, fluffing up a bed he’d made with his fucking shirt because she’d shivered.

Not to mention the need he’d felt to come out here and chop wood so he could permanently alter his home for her. This entire situation was ridiculous. He didn’t behave like this. He didn’t find stray shifters and go out of his way to ensure their comfort, especially if it deterred his own.

What had gotten into him?

He didn’t know. But as he returned to his task, picking up his axe and swiftly cutting log after log, he realized he didn’t really care why he was behaving this way. He’d felt protective of her since he’d saved her last night. It was instinctual.

It felt right.

So, if he wanted to prep a room on the off-chance she stayed with him for a while longer, then he’d do it.

He just might not mention it to any of his brothers in case they planned on busting his balls for the rest of his days.

A fter a few hours of grueling work outside, and an interesting afternoon of snacking and watching TV with his rabbit—who had a lot to say about what show they watched considering she couldn’t even speak—it was time for dinner.

“You want to change back now?” He nodded toward the plates and silverware he’d set out on the counter in preparation for their next meal. “Maybe eat dinner with some utensils?” he joked.

The rabbit twitched her nose, looking around the room before staring back at him, her eyes wide. He’d placed her on the counter again, mostly just because he enjoyed keeping an eye on her while he completed other tasks.

“Don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

She huffed, hopping over to him. She reached out with a front paw, batting at his stomach. His brows rose until she leaned forward, snagging his T-shirt with her teeth and tugging lightly.

Oh.

“You want clothes first?” Usually shifters weren’t shy about nudity, especially not when it came to shifting, so it hadn’t even occurred to him she’d want to cover up. Grunting, he pulled the T-shirt up over his head, grabbed her, and moved from the kitchen and around the corner. Setting her and the shirt on the ground, he walked back to the kitchen, leaving her to her own devices.

He remained aloof, though he couldn’t deny the way his stomach churned with anticipation, acutely aware of every noise in the cabin as he pulled a few trout from the fridge and began preparing them. He’d just chopped off the last head and tossed it into the garbage disposal when he heard the faint sound of bones popping, followed by a delicate, feminine sigh.

His gut clenched at that one sound, his mouth watering as lust hit him from out of nowhere. His cock swelled in his jeans, desire licking at his balls.

What in the hell was wrong with him?

His fingers were bone white as he clutched the butcher knife in a death grip, his cock harder than he’d ever felt in his life. He pressed himself against the kitchen counter, desperate to hide his erection. She could turn the corner at any second. He needed to calm the fuck down before she scented his lust.

Pull yourself together. All she did was sigh, you perverse fuck .

Tank shook his head to clear it, thinking about anything other than the woman in the other room. Towels, chores he hadn’t gotten to yet, artwork that he found boring. Luckily, that did the trick, and his cock no longer felt like it would punch through the denim material.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Tank went back to preparing the fish, forcing his shoulders to relax.

His head jerked up a moment later when he heard the gentle sound of feet moving cautiously on the hardwood floor, every ounce of his being focused on her footsteps as she drew closer.

After a second, a young woman stepped into view, and Tank nearly lost the grip on his knife, his heart thundering in his ears.

She stopped in the entryway to the kitchen, eyeing him nervously as she shifted onto the balls of her feet, his shirt absolutely dwarfing her body, hanging to her knees.

She was fucking beautiful.

Tank felt like a goddamn idiot for gaping at her, but he couldn’t look away. She was short, with long lilac-colored hair, fair skin, plump pink lips, and a small upturned nose. A dusting of freckles was scattered over her cheeks and she had the brightest, most vivid green eyes he’d ever seen. He’d known she was a submissive shifter by her scent alone, but seeing her small frame now, it was more apparent than ever.

Aside from her beauty, it was impossible to not notice how thin she looked, or and the dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept or eaten properly in months.

Tank didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all .

She bit her lower lip, glancing away from him for a second before she looked back. Their eyes locked, and Tank felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him, his heart picking up a frantic beat.

“Hi,” she murmured, her voice almost as sweet as her scent. It was light, and as delicate as she looked. “I’m Hunny,” she added after a few seconds of silence.

“Hunny?” Tank’s lips twitched as he suppressed a laugh, his beard doing nothing to conceal the action. Her eyes snapped to his mouth and narrowed.

“Is something funny, Tank ?” she asked sarcastically, raising a dark-colored brow and crossing her arms in front of her chest, all but daring him to answer.

“Just your name.” Her lips parted in shock, a small squeak escaping from her throat that had him adding, “Hunny Bunny is funny. Admit it.”

“That’s not why I’m named Hunny, you—you— ugh !” She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation, and the shirt she wore rose several inches, revealing smooth, creamy thighs. “And that’s a weird thing for you to say, considering your name is Tank.”

“Tank’s a nickname, Hunny,” he answered, enjoying the easy way her name slid off his tongue. He even enjoyed the way she sassed him.

Some of her ire deflated as she asked curiously, “What’s your name, then?”

“Henry.”

“Oh.”

He smirked. “Still think it’s weird?”

She lifted her chin. “Maybe.”

With a deep, rusty laugh, Tank looked down at the fish he’d begun preparing. “You eat meat?” A lot of small shifters didn’t.

“Only fish, coincidentally. I’m more of a vegetarian than anything else, Henry.” He shook his head at her use of his name. Taking a few steps forward until she was standing at the other end of the kitchen island, she eyed the fish hungrily. “It’s been a while since I had trout,” she added.

“Sit.” He nodded toward one of the barstools before continuing his work. He’d fill her with some nice cooked trout, a salad, and some baked bread.

Maybe they’d talk a bit, too. Finally.

His throat would hurt like a son of a bitch by the end of the night, but suddenly he didn’t mind so much.