Dragging my heavy feet home, I cursed Caleb Shaw a thousand times in my head.

It had to be his fault.

Now my head was spinning, my whole body was burning up, and even my breath felt scorching hot. I really was getting sick.

In the corner of the living room.

The new rabbit was curled up quietly, watching me silently.

She looked so small and delicate, completely harmless.

Non-humanoid beasts were easier to care for — they didn't talk back, didn't scheme, didn't break your heart.

I collapsed onto the couch, pressing my burning forehead against the cool leather.

"Sorry, little one," I mumbled. "Your new owner is kind of a mess right now."

The rabbit's ears perked up. Those ruby-red eyes blinked once, twice.

Then, to my absolute shock, the small white form began to shimmer.

The fur receded. Limbs lengthened. The pink bow with the tiny bell stretched and settled around a pale, slender neck.

Where a rabbit had been, a boy now knelt.

Tall, willowy, with snow-white hair that fell past his shoulders and those same crimson eyes — now framed by long lashes and a face so delicate it bordered on ethereal.

He was wearing an oversized Institute-issued shirt that hung off one shoulder, and he was trembling.

"P-please don't be scared," he whispered, his voice soft as cotton. "I can explain."

I stared.

And stared.

Then the fever won, and the room tilted sideways.

"Luna!"

Warm hands caught me before I hit the floor. He was stronger than he looked — easily lifting me onto the couch and pressing his cool palm against my forehead.

"You're burning up," he said, his crimson eyes widening with worry. "Do you have medicine? Where do you keep it?"

"Kitchen... top shelf..."

He was gone and back in seconds, a glass of water and two pills balanced carefully in his hands. He helped me sit up, supporting my head with one arm while guiding the glass to my lips with the other.

"Small sips," he murmured. "Don't rush."

The pills went down. I fell back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling while my brain tried to process what had just happened.

"You're... not a girl rabbit," I said eloquently.

His ears — still rabbit ears, long and white and impossibly soft-looking — drooped.

"No," he admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."

"And you can shift to human form."

"Yes."

"And you've been... watching me cry for three days and didn't say anything?"

The drooping got worse. His whole body seemed to curl inward with guilt.

"I didn't know how to... I was scared you'd send me back."

His voice cracked on the last word. I looked at him — really looked.

Under the ethereal beauty was a boy who was terrified. His fingers were twisting the hem of his shirt so hard the fabric was starting to fray.

"What's your name?" I asked softly.

He looked up, surprised.

"Asher."

"Asher." I tested the name. It was gentle. It suited him. "How long were you at the Institute before I adopted you?"

"Three years. Four trainers."

"Four?"

He flinched. "They all sent me back. The first two wanted a female companion. The third said I was too clingy. The fourth..."

He trailed off, and his hand unconsciously moved to his ribs, as if protecting an old wound.

I didn't push. I knew that gesture. I'd seen it on countless beastkin at the Institute — the instinctive shielding of a body that had learned to expect pain.

"Asher," I said firmly. "I'm not sending you back."

Those ruby eyes went wide. Glistening.

"Really?"

"Really. But from now on — no more secrets. Deal?"

He nodded so vigorously his ears flopped. Despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch.

Maybe this fever-induced hallucination wasn't so bad after all.