Page 459 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

And that's why Plague is No Daddy.

"She sat down," Thane says, skating up, helmet already off, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. It's almost as long as Plague's now. Whiskey was right. It looks great like this.

I lean up to kiss Thane, who's adorably just Daddy to Minnie, and he kisses me too, grinning. There are visible tears swimming in his dark eyes as cameras flash somewhere behind the glass.

"We won, Ivy. We won our second fucking Cup. Fuck, I love you so fucking much."

"I noticed. My ears are still ringing from my bonus mom." I pull him closer by his armor, kissing him again. He smells so good, the adrenaline from the game strengthening his woodsy scent. "I love you, too."

"Our bonus mom," Whiskey corrects me with a huge, playful grin.

Minnie has suddenly lost interest in the confetti.

She's spotted Wraith, and everyone else might as well disappear.

She pushes up onto her feet, wobbling, arms out for balance, already taking quick little steps toward the far end of the pile where the biggest alpha on the ice is still extracting himself from the rest of the celebrating team with Val.

Val escapes first. He ruffles Minnie's hair with his glove, eliciting happy squeals from her, but she's on a mission. He drapes an arm over my shoulder from behind and murmurs, "Khorosho, da?" against my hair, kissing my temple, and yeah.

Yeah. It's good.

I lean up to kiss him, too, his white lashes fluttering shut.

Whiskey fist bumps him over my head. "Fuckin' sick, bro."

"Thank you."

Wraith skates up the moment he's free, reaching up to unstrap the protective face cage, the one that makes him look like a wolfish folk hero. He lets it hang from his fingers at his side as his eyes meet mine, warm and blue and happy.

Then his eyes go down to Minnie, coming toward him on the ice.

He drops to one knee.

I watch my daughter toddle across the ice, through drifts of confetti while Thane glides along behind her, one hand hovering an inch from her back just in case, our eternal protector even here, even now.

She makes it all the way to Wraith.

The whole arena is watching, the roaring quieting down as everything seems to fall away.

Three years of foundation work to improve societal perception of ferals, and I know there are still people in this crowd who only see one thing. A little girl grabbing a feral alpha's scarred jaw with her tiny hands, patting his sharp teeth.

And I know exactly what she sees.

"Spooky Daddy!"

Wraith picks her up and nuzzles her head, confetti settling onto his choppy dark hair and hers, the JumboTron lighting up with them both.

He doesn't even care.

His eyes are on Minnie, not the screen.

"Now it's your turn to cry," Whiskey teases me, lifting me up onto his shoulders. I'm laughing as I cling to his messy chestnut hair, but he's right.

I'm crying, too.

Wraith skates up to me, Minnie's tiny hands fisted in his jersey. He passes her off to Valek, who she's reaching frantically for, crying out "Papochka!" because of course our daughter is growing up multilingual.

And I know all five alphas are about to get caught in a neverending cycle of holding Minnie while she wants the next in line. Once Valek has her, though, he isn't going to let her go without a fight.

Riding high on Whiskey's shoulders, I'm the tallest in the pack for once, even taller than Wraith. That makes me giggle all over again.

But not quite enough to stop crying.

Not even when Wraith drops his gloves and the face cage and reaches up to cup my cheeks in his scarred palms, and this time, I have to bend to kiss him.

When I pull away, he gazes at me with those blue eyes—now tied for the bluest eyes I've ever seen—and signs to me, thumb and index and little finger extended, middle and ring fingers folded down against his palm.

I love you.

I make the same sign, pressing it against his hand.

I love you, too.

THE END