Page 188 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Nothing," I say softly, smiling and stroking his solid arm. "It's good. This is good."

He glances at Valek, then back at me, confused.

Valek just shrugs lazily and goes back to the stove. "Your omega is happy. Don't question it."

I cross my arms, smirking at him. "I'm your omega, too, remember?"

His silver eyes flick back to me over his shoulder. "Hmm."

"I'm going on a date with Thane tonight," I continue, leaning on the counter so I can see him better while he makes more pancakes and eggs. We already have a metric fuckton of food, so I'm pretty sure he's just keeping busy to avoid facing me.

"Alone?" he asks.

"Yep," I say, leaning in a little more to make sure I'm well within his field of vision.

He keeps his eyes locked on the skillet.

I try not to let out the giggle stuck in my throat. This is the alpha everyone's afraid of? The most graceful, smooth alpha I've ever met—even more than Plague, although I'd never say that out loud—is treating pancake making like surgery because he doesn't know how to talk to an omega, and it's kind of adorable.

And I used to think he was menacing.

"Wonder where he's taking me?" I muse out loud.

"Somewhere aggressively normal, I'm sure," Valek mutters finally. "Bowling. Rollerblading. An arcade, if he's daring."

"And where would you take me?" I ask point blank.

His eyes meet mine again, but only for a second. They're laser focused on the pancakes again a heartbeat later. "I'm not normal, so."

"Any hints?” I press.

He blows a puff of air through his nose. “Are you asking me to go on a date?”

"If you don’t beat me to it, I might," I say. Because I'm starting to realize Valek is reserved and shy in his own way, and it's going to take a little bit of pushing for him to accept I really do like him.

Wraith may be the truly feral alpha in the pack, but Valek started out feral, too, from what I've been able to piece together. He just honed his ferality into a weapon. He's still afraid to let anyone in.

Getting past that is one of my strengths, apparently.

Valek lets out a long, dramatic sigh and sweeps his hair back from his face, setting everything aside to turn fully to me. That wolfish smirk of his tugs at his lips as he reaches up with a tentative hand and brushes his knuckles against my jaw.

I fight the urge to show how much his touch affects me as his rough thumb slides to my chin and presses there, tilting my head back, his darkening eyes meeting mine.

"You want to know what I'd plan for a date with you, little omega?" he asks in a low, teasing tone.

"Burying bodies?" I tease him right back.

"Me? Burying bodies?" He presses his free hand to his collarbone, clutching at imaginary pearls. "Of course not. The fire station."

"What?" I choke out, already laughing.

He shrugs and taps the silver scar on his temple from where I clobbered him with a fire extinguisher. "Might as well go back to where it all began."

Whiskey's dramatic yelp splits the air and we both spin around—I'm still laughing—to see Plague has finally managed to slap the wrapped ice pack against Whiskey's stomach, and now they're wrestling.

Or about to fuck.

I really can't tell with these two.