Page 212 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Not just her body against mine. Not even just her heartbeat syncing with mine through the bond.

No.

I feel her contentment.

It whispers through the thread between us, through my very soul, and I realize with a jolt that for the first time in my life, I'm completely at peace.

"I love you," I murmur. "I love you so fucking much, Ivy."

She tips my chin up with one finger and I lift my head to look at her.

Her eyes are brighter than I've ever seen them. The blue-green irises practically glow in the blue light from the screen even through the tinted windows. Her swollen lips are parted, her breath still hitching with the echoes of everything that just happened.

She cranes her neck and twists to look down at the healing mark on her shoulder. She touches it with her fingertips and winces, but before I can start panicking again, she grins so wide her wet lashes squeeze out a few more tears that make her mascara run more.

Then those ocean eyes lift back to mine, and the grin turns feral and fucking overjoyed. It's so purely Ivy, my heart swells against my ribs, and I'm sure it's going to actually crack them this time.

"I love you, too, Thane."

My heart fucking stops this time.

She kisses me again, breathlessly, and I crush my lips to hers once more, digging my fingers into her hair as she whispers against my mouth, still grinning.

"Best. Date. Ever."

Chapter 45

Wraith

"Bro," Whiskey groans, wincing as plaster rains into his hair, "a little warning before you start digging shit outta there would be nice."

I look at him.

He looks at me.

"Right. No voice. But you could've signed."

I wouldn't have.

Because Whiskey coated in plaster and dramatically spitting out chunks of it is the most entertainment I've had since Ivy left for her date with my brother five hours ago.

Which is a generous estimate.

It might have been ten hours, or a hundred hours. Time moves differently when she's not here. Slowly. Torturously.

I hate it.

We all do, which is why we've turned our restless energy into doing something fucking productive instead of sitting around.

Namely tearing the disguise off the door in the ceiling that leads to my loft, where she first hid from this pack. And then Valek.

Now Valek is pack, too.

Still don't love the whole fucking pack being in my space, but Ivy likes it up there, and where Ivy is, the pack follows.

So I'll survive.

I dig my fingers into the seam where we sealed the hatch door and peel back a strip of joint compound that crumbles down the front of my shirt and into my hair. More white dust falls into my eyes and I blink it away, tilting my head to keep the worst of it off the bandage still covering the sutured side of my jaw.