Page 2 of The Bunny Blues

It was my parents.

I’d fought the urge to vomit as my father continued speaking, shattering any illusion that he’d ever cared for me.

He’d known the type of men my matched were. They were cold, selfish, and without room in their hearts to treasure a mate. But my father was willing to let them have their way with my body and destroy my soul—all so he could continue boosting his social standing.

After realizing my parents weren’t on my side, and determined to avoid taking those men as my mates, I’d gone to the elders alone and laid out my case. But just like my parents, the elders had dismissed my feelings.

My match to Edward, Henry, Brett, and Jay would stand. The elders rambled on and on about the importance of the matching and how it was a hallowed event within the burrows.

Then they’d warned me I had to submit. If I didn’t, I would be confined away from the burrows as they couldn’t risk one disobedient bunny disrupting generations of perfect matches.

It was their polished way of saying I would be imprisoned because they didn’t want the other unhappy females to think they had a choice when it came to matches.

If I’d had more time, I would’ve made a plan to escape the burrows. But the overwhelming stress over the matching brought my heat on earlier than expected. I’d been forced to focus on surviving rather than trying to find a way out of my situation.

The decision was taken out of my hands when my mother found me shaking in the bathtub. My skin had been raw and bleeding from where I’d desperately tried to scrub away the scent of my awakening heat.

She’d called my father home from work, dragged me from the bath, and packed my bags. My father arrived home, and they’d loaded me into the car and dropped me off at my matched mates’ mansion. With a careless wave, they’d driven off.

To their credit, the four men hadn’t forced themselves on me. They’d been honorable and remained in control of their inner rabbits even when the fragrance of my heat was all that could be smelled throughout the mansion.

I wish I could say I’d been strong enough to fight through the pain and need clawing at my body and mind. But I hadn’t.

To my shame, I’d given in to the biological demands of my body. I’d begged for them to ease the pain that was shredding my insides. And without hesitation, they’d eagerly done their best to breed my brains out.

In the brief moments of clarity I experienced during those first couple of days, I’d tried to reassure myself that everything would work out in the end. After all, it was rare for rabbit males not to bond with their matched female.

And so, despite their initial protests, I’d clung to the hope they’d give in to the bond and claim me. They hadn’t.

I’d fought against claiming them, but I wasn’t strong enough to win against my shifter side while in heat. Thanks to my heat, I was going to be trapped as a mate to four men who didn’t care about me… and there was nothing I could do about it.

Everyone in the burrow had heard the horror stories of rabbits who’d been separated from their claimed mate. Within a week, a rabbit would begin to feel the strain of separation.

During weeks two and three, the discomfort would turn to agony. With each passing day, the separated rabbits would be driven almost mad with the need to do anything they could to get back to their mate.

Since my shifter side had claimed the men as her mates, it was too late for me to run. I was trapped here in a loveless fluffle whether I liked it or not.

My matched didn’t need me, but I needed them if I wanted to keep my sanity.

And all that had led to me curled up and alone in the middle of a large four-poster bed in a sparsely decorated room.

Just thinking of the room caused an invisible knife to twist in my gut. It was yet another reminder of how unimportant I was to my new fluffle.

The guys had refused to allow me to create the cozy nest every bunny needed to help ease the stress of the heat. They’d rambled on about the cost of the interior designer, and how I should appreciate the modern, minimalistic style of the home they were providing for me.

According to them, it would be an insult to the award-winning designer if they let me junk it up. I wasn’t an idiot.

I knew Edward had been banging the interior designer right up until our match was announced. That was why her feelings about the room were more important than mine.

Their only concession was allowing me to pick three pillows and an oversized blanket to tuck around me.

Grinding my teeth together, I tried to ignore the sound of electricity running through the walls to the strategically placed light fixtures. Every part of my body was overstimulated and on edge, and the incessant noise and harsh light scraped against my nerves like razor blades.

I would’ve given my right arm to have soft candlelight and happy fairy lights scattered around the room rather than the migraine-inducing white light. But the men had been horrified at my requests and shot them down immediately.

At that point, complete darkness would have been preferable, but the men had left without bothering to flip off the lights.

Cracking open an eye, I studied the light switch across the room. Desperate as I was, my trembling muscles told me that if I attempted to climb from the bed, I’d end up face-planting on the floor.

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