Page 40 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I last three seconds before I break. I drop my forehead against her shoulder with a broken growl, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her scent and shuddering in her arms as she wraps herself around me.

I can't do this.

Can't sit still while she presses her soft lips to… that.

"Wraith," Thane's voice cuts through the moment, rough but gentle. "You still with us?"

I manage a tense nod against Ivy's shoulder.

"Good," he says, and I feel the bed dip as he settles beside us. "Thought you took off on us again. Mentally, I mean."

Ivy lifts a hand to stroke my head, carding her fingers through my damp hair. "Come on," she murmurs. "Let's get in the nest. I'm fucking freezing."

The nest.

Right.

The one she built while she was in heat, the blankets and pillows arranged with omega instincts that can turn any space into a sanctuary.

She pulls me toward it, and I follow because I can't not follow. She immediately positions herself against my side, fitting her body against mine. She nestles against my chest, pressing her ear over my heart, and her arm drapes across my scarred abdomen.

"Thane," she calls, into my sternum. "Get in here."

"You sure?" he asks, hovering at the edge of the nest. "You don't really know me that well⁠—"

"You just fucked me in the shower. I'm sure," she says flatly.

I watch Thane settle in fully on her other side, stretching out and draping an arm across Ivy's waist, his forearm brushing mine.

Ivy starts purring again, making the whole nest vibrate. It settles into my bones, into my marrow, and I close my eyes in spite of the terror still lingering in my veins.

I'm painfully aware my face is still exposed.

From this angle, Ivy can't see me unless she tilts her head back and looks on purpose, and she's keeping her head down. But I don’t think it’s for her own sake. I think it might be for mine.

Can't believe I'm not sure.

The edge of one of the blankets is so close.

I could pull it up.

But I'd have to move.

And Ivy's arms are around me, and Thane is on her other side, sandwiching her between our warm bodies as she burrows happily into the nest between us, and suddenly I find myself surrounded by warmth and scent and pack.

Pack.

The word surfaces through the chaos in my head, and for once, it doesn't feel like a lie.

Chapter 8

Valek

Fork and Barrel on a Friday night is always packed.

Every table is full of families and couples and groups of friends who actually want to be here, who aren't being strong-armed into dinner by their well-meaning mother who thinks her adult children need more "quality time together."

I spot them immediately.