Page 122 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Stop arguing," Thane groans, settling onto the outer edge of the nest with his back against the wall. "Some of us are trying to process the fact that we almost got arrested tonight."

"We didn't almost get arrested," Whiskey argues, completely oblivious to Plague swearing and yanking on his bent leg trapped beneath his bulk. "Valek almost got arrested. There's a difference."

I keep my fingers moving through Wraith's hair, but my heart rate kicks up, and I'm suddenly very aware of what happened between Valek and me.

He kissed me.

Or I kissed him.

Or… we kissed each other.

Does it matter who started it when the result was the same?

He wanted me, and I wanted him back.

Light footsteps on the stairs make everyone tense up at once. Wraith's eyes snap open, and Thane straightens, ready to stand. Whiskey and Plague look up at the same time, Plague frozen with his leg still halfway trapped under the bigger alpha.

Valek steps down onto the landing.

He's changed into dark gray sweats and a plain white tank, his bone-white hair still damp from what must have been a quick shower. His eyes sweep the room, taking in the nest on the floor, the pack arranged around it, me with Wraith's head in my lap.

His gaze lands on mine, and our secret passes between us.

I kissed you.

You kissed me back.

Now what?

He doesn't say anything. Neither do I.

But I give him a small nod.

An invitation.

Valek descends the rest of the stairs slowly, giving everyone pointed time to object. No one does. Although Whiskey's eyes narrow.

He doesn't join the nest.

Instead, he settles against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Close enough to be present. Far enough to maintain distance.

Wraith lets out a low, wary rumble from my lap without opening his eyes that says, I don’t know what to think after what happened today and I’ll accept you for now, but if you fuck up, I’ll tear you limb from limb.

Since everyone's tense already, I decide to ask the question that's been nagging the back of my mind. I'm assuming Thane knows, but he hasn't told me anything. Which I appreciate.

"Is Wade alive?"

Not because I give a shit about him.

But I just… need to know.

"Yes," Thane answers. "He's in stable condition." He pauses, his eyes flicking to Valek. "The knee injury is career-ending. He'll never play hockey again."

I wait for something resembling a shred of sympathy for the alpha I once thought was my mate.

It feels like I'm supposed to. I'm an omega. Sympathy and empathy—too much of it, at times—is kind of our thing.

But there's… none.