Page 243 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Ivy just giggles.

I growl, momentarily soothed by the sound.

Whiskey snorts. "Kinda funny, actually." He scratches at his stomach thoughtfully. "I know alpha-alpha pairings aren't always, uh, accepted, but they didn't question it. Didn't even bat an eye. Just handed me the keycard. Kinda sweet of 'em to be progressive about it, actually. Unless they thought you were so pretty, maybe you're an ome⁠—"

"Shut up," I mutter, shoving the hummus into the fridge and closing the door. I press both palms flat against the counter and breathe.

Behind me, Ivy is still giggling into Whiskey's chest. I can hear her muffled laughter and his low, pleased rumbling purr.

He didn't just do this to fuck around.

He wanted to make her laugh.

At least she's happy.

Sighing, I turn around, arms crossed, and fix Whiskey with the flattest stare I can manage.

"You're staying here," I tell him. "While we're at the planetarium. Here. In this room. You are not going to pop up behind an exhibit. You are not going to appear in the gift shop. You are not going to hire a skywriter."

"Bro." He puts his hand over his bare, enormous chest. I mean his heart. "I promise. That would be fucked up. It's your date. I have boundaries."

I give him a doubtful once-over and go to the mirror to make sure I didn't spill takeout on my coat, plucking a few stray hairs off the collar. Great. He scared me so badly, I'm shedding.

"It's our date," Ivy corrects from her position sprawled across him. "All three of us. But yes, Whiskey. Stay. This part of it's just for Plague and me."

He salutes. "Roger that, wildcat."

She kisses his forehead and rolls off the bed, grabbing her bag from where I set it near the closet. "I'm changing. Five minutes."

The bathroom door shuts and the suite goes completely silent.

Whiskey sits up, the silk pooling around his waist. "Are you gonna give me a kiss goodbye too?" he asks, his grin twisting into a far more dangerous smirk.

"No."

His bottom lip does the thing where it pushes out by approximately two millimeters, and I hate that I know this is the exact expression that precedes me caving on something.

I cross the room in four strides, grab a fistful of red silk, and kiss him.

He makes a startled, happy sound against my mouth. His giant hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me down, and I let him for exactly three seconds.

"Stay," I repeat against his lips in a low growl. "Here."

"Yes, sir," he says breathlessly.

I straighten my turtleneck, which doesn't need straightening, and turn away before he can see the flush crawling up my throat.

There are maybe twelve other people at the planetarium, and none of them look up from their phones when we enter.

Perfect.

I chose it specifically because it's small, mostly frequented by students and professors, and there's a showing tonight of a program on deep-space nebulae that I reserved before we collectively decided to take her on dates.

Just in case.

It's a converted observatory on the university campus, domed and quiet, surrounded by bare oak trees with branches reaching up to the dark sky. It isn't well-insulated, and it's chillier than I expected. I shrug out of my coat halfway through the parking lot and hand it to Ivy.

"Thanks," she says, leaning up to kiss my jaw.