Page 30 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Omega instincts are as strong as alpha instincts. Only theirs are built completely on self-preservation and survival. And Wraith is the most visibly feral alpha alive, maybe.

His face is shocking. He knows it is. Bullshitting won't make him feel any better. He'll just think the rest of what I'm saying is bullshit, too.

I tap his shoulder.

He lifts his eyes to shoot me a look. What?

My signs are firm.

She definitely does know now, and you can't pretend she doesn't. Yes, she seemed nervous. I won't deny that. She's an omega. You're a feral alpha, even aside from… everything else. But she was afraid FOR you above everything else. She loves you. She just invited you to follow her into the shower. Does it really seem like she doesn't want you anymore?

He watches me, his tired eyes narrowed slightly as he follows my signs as they spill out of my hands. Because even though I'm being almost brutally honest with him, he still doesn't believe me.

The bathroom door opens.

Steam billows out, carrying Ivy’s honeysuckle scent intensified by the humidity. She pokes her head around the doorframe, hair wet and clinging to her shoulders, skin flushed pink from the hot water.

All I can see is her bare collarbone and even that's enough to make my ears flush hot.

"Hey," she says, smiling softly. "You guys coming?"

Oh. She did mean both of us.

I glance at Wraith, who's gazing at her with a lost expression, already rising from the bed like he isn't sure if he's going to go to her or go out the fucking window.

I stand, too, clearing my throat.

"Actually, I'm gonna run down to the car real quick. Forgot something." I shoot Wraith my best trust me grin as he stares up at me in surprise. "I'll be right back."

There's nothing in the car.

But Wraith and Ivy need a minute alone, even if it kills me.

Chapter 6

Ivy

Thane squeezes Wraith's shoulder once, and then he's gone, disappearing down the fire escape.

And Wraith is left standing in the middle of the room like an alpha facing a firing squad while I lean against the bathroom doorway with steam curling around me, smiling innocently at him.

I watch him take me in hesitantly.

His eyes drop to my collarbone where a few stubborn soap bubbles still cling to my skin. I feel one of the bubbles sliding down between my breasts, and I watch those burning blue eyes track it with an intensity that makes my stomach flip before he jerks his gaze away.

Gods, he's so painfully aware of himself. Of what he thinks he is, versus what I actually see when I look at him.

I wish he hadn't put on another mask.

But I'm not surprised.

"Please?" I ask softly, because I know he's about to talk himself out of coming in here with me. I can see the war raging behind his eyes. They dart to the darker part of the loft, then to the window, then away again.

Anywhere but in my direction.

I see the exact moment he decides to come to me, with a weary sigh and sag of his shoulders, and he forces himself to walk.

I step back to give him space as he enters the bathroom. He's so impossibly huge, the space feels like a fucking closet now that he's in it.