Page 413 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

She comes, and I take her face in both hands, tilt her chin up, and kiss her. Slow and thorough, my tongue exploring her mouth, tasting and breathing in her honeysuckle, a good enough kiss I hope she'll think about it for the rest of the weekend so we can pick up where we left off the moment she gets home.

She makes a soft sound against my lips, her fingers curling into the collar of my jacket, and I let myself have ten more greedy seconds of it before I pull back.

"You got this," I tell her quietly, pressing my forehead against hers.

"I know."

"And if you need anything⁠—"

"Whiskey." She grabs both sides of my face and squishes my cheeks together. "Go home. Get ready for our cat. Tell Thane and Val and Plague I love them. Tell Val to send more pictures. I've been hoping he and Plague would have their own thing, and I want the receipts."

"Gotcha, wildcat."

She laughs and kisses me one more time, quick and sweet, before letting go.

I turn to Wraith and point at him. "Take care of our girl."

He nods.

Always.

"And eat something good and messy, bro. You're camping. Live a little."

He flips me off.

I grin, throw a leg over Hogzilla, and kick the engine to life.

The last thing I see before the trees swallow the road is Ivy waving to me, a huge grin on her face, and Wraith offering her his hand.

Chapter 86

Plague

Iwake up with my face pressed against a…

Sternum.

Warm skin over dense muscle, rising and falling beneath my cheek, and a heartbeat going slow and steady directly into my ear.

I don't move.

I figure out where the fuck I am instead.

First, my arm is wrapped around a long, lean, toned waist.

My hand is gripping sweatpants fabric.

There is a hand on my back, large but with elegant fingers, resting on my hip, and it's warm enough it must have been there for a while.

It most definitely is not Whiskey's bear paw of a hand.

Fuck.

I lift my head so fast my neck cracks.

Valek is looking down at me, lips quirked, half-lidded eyes glinting with clear amusement through the damp white hair plastered to his face.

"Good evening," he purrs.