Page 195 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I kiss him again because the first one wasn't enough, rising on my toes while he bends to meet me. The roses crinkle in their paper between us as his hand tightens where it rests on my waist.

Whiskey wolf-whistles from somewhere behind me. "Okay," he announces, clapping his hands together once. "This is real cute, but some of us got crushed in a closet for this."

I break away from Thane's mouth and turn around. "You crushed yourself in that closet," I point out. "And me, by the way."

"I saved you! I used my body like a human meat shield, bro-ette."

Thane's eyebrows climb. "Why were you guys in the closet?"

"You knocked," Plague says flatly. "And we're all fucking insane, apparently."

I snort and start making my rounds. Whiskey first, because he's already making grabby hands. He hauls me into a hug that lifts me clean off the floor, and I kiss his stubbled cheek.

"Have fun, wildcat. If the restaurant sucks, text me, I'll order you a pizza to the table."

I grin. "That's not how restaurants work."

"Not with that attitude."

Plague is next, the reserved alpha's lips lingering on mine for longer than necessary. His hand comes up and rests warm on my back.

"The scissors," he murmurs against my hair, "go back in the block before Whiskey gets 'confused' again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say innocently.

"Mm." He kisses me again.

Valek doesn't get up, but he’s looking at me like it’s killing him not to, so I lean over the armchair and kiss the scar on his head, the one I gave him. His eyes track me the whole way, silver and unblinking.

"You look like a forest fire," he says.

"Is that good?"

"It's catastrophic," he says quietly. "Enjoy your dinner."

Wraith is last, and he's already signing where he waits by the door. Beautiful. Be safe. Text me.

"I think I'll be just fine. But I will." I cup the unbandaged side of his scarred jaw this time, and he bends so I can press a kiss to the bandaged part. His chest rumbles, low and warm.

Then his gaze cuts to Thane over my head, narrows, and his hands move again, more emphatically and direct this time.

Thane snorts. "I'm not going to lose her."

You lost your keys twice this week, Wraith signs pointedly.

"Keys aren't my mate."

The happy butterflies in my stomach get started all over again.

Thane offers me his arm and I loop mine through it, cradling the roses against my chest with my free hand. They smell incredible, dense and sweet, two dozen at least in the deepest red I've ever seen.

"Did you buy out the whole shop?" I ask him, sniffing them as he leads me out into the cool evening air.

"There was a moment of panic at the counter," he admits. "The florist asked how many. I didn't have a number prepared."

"So you said all of them."

"Maybe." His ears go pink again.