Page 178 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

The warm pressure of her lips against my… teeth.

How she pulled me closer instead of pushing me back.

The soft happy sound she made when my tongue found hers.

No fear. None at all.

She said I was a good kisser.

Me.

The scarf shifts against my jaw as I swing out the loft window onto the fire escape, but I don't fix it this time. I'm too busy helping Ivy climb through the window behind me. She's barefoot, because she forgot her shoes again, and the cold metal grating of the fire escape will hurt.

So I scoop her into my arms instead.

She lets out a surprised yelp and flings her arms around my neck, grinning up at me, eyes sparking with glee.

It's the grin that makes her whole face light up, somehow not dimmed at all by the sight of me with the scarf hanging half off. I still don't understand how, or why, but I've stopped trying to argue because she'll just argue back harder and she always wins.

I go first, testing each step. The fire escape groans under my weight. It always does. If I don't fix it, one of these days the bolts are going to give out and I'm going to plummet into the dumpster and Whiskey will never let me hear the end of it.

That's okay.

I'll show him Ivy's lockscreen.

We reach the second-floor landing. I shift Ivy to one arm and pull the window open, ducking through, guarding her head with my shoulder.

I set her on her feet on the hardwood floor and she gives me another kiss on the side of my jaw.

It's more of a peck this time, but still dazes me into a stupor.

The hallway is dark and quiet enough my heightened senses pick up the clatter of the icemaker and Whiskey's snoring coming from Plague's room.

Or it's a hibernating grizzly bear.

Could go either way.

Ivy tips her head back to look up at me. She mouths, Thane's room?

I nod.

She pads down the hallway ahead of me, a bounce in her step. I kick off my boots and follow her, fixing my scarf since we're in the common area now, careful of the floorboards that creak.

One still does.

I freeze.

Ivy freezes, too, her hand pressed flat against my chest.

We wait, listening.

Whiskey's chainsaw snoring continues uninterrupted from Plague's room.

I exhale and keep moving.

The thought catches me as we pass Valek's room, the door left slightly open, that we don't need to keep the loft sealed anymore. My eyes flick to it. The edges of the patch job are visible even in the darkness, the paint not matching as well as whoever chose it clearly thought it would.

No wonder Valek knew immediately.