Page 218 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

She's standing in front of me, close enough that I have to look down to see her, her eyes searching mine. The tie around her neck has shifted, and I see more of Thane's mark.

"Hey." Her voice is soft. "You okay?"

I blink. The static recedes. The entryway comes back into focus around me. Whiskey has Thane in a bear hug and is rocking him back and forth like a baby while Thane snarls and struggles in vain, his dark eyes wild with exasperation always reserved solely for Whiskey.

"BRO!" Whiskey bellows, squeezing tighter. "You look like a whole new man! What happened on that date? Was it the tie thing? Is the tie thing a move? Teach me the tie thing⁠—"

"There's no tie thing, Whiskey, she just⁠—"

"Let him go," Plague snaps, yanking fruitlessly at Whiskey's arm. "You're going to suffocate him, and then I'll have to perform CPR, and I do not want to perform CPR on Thane."

"You'd let him die?"

Valek barks out a harsh laugh.

"Wraith." Ivy's thumb strokes my cheekbone. "Come back to me."

I nod.

I'm okay, I sign stiffly.

Her eyes narrow just a fraction, that assessing look she gets when she's figured out something I haven't said and is deciding how hard to push.

She turns to the group.

"Hey." Her voice carries easily over the chaos, cutting through even Whiskey's bellowing with the effortless authority of an omega who's figured out how to manage her pack of beasts. "I need a few minutes. I'll be right back."

She doesn't wait for a response. She's already going toward the window we usually use to reach the fire escape.

I catch up with her in just two steps and tap her shoulder.

Wait, I sign. We fixed the door.

"You did?" she asks, blinking. "Wait, the door Whiskey sent me that legal jargon over?"

I manage a huffing laugh and nod again, motioning to her to follow me.

When we reach the second-floor hallway, I stop at the hatch and push it up, letting it swing open on the newly freed hinges. The wood is rough where we peeled away the joint compound, and there's still plaster dust coating the frame, but it works.

I gesture at it and manage something that probably reads as ta-da if you're being generous and here's a door if you're not.

Ivy grins up at it. "Wow. You really did fix it."

We all did. So you don't have to use the fire escape.

"I liked the fire escape." But she's already climbing the ladder, and her smile as she looks back at me is warm and real and I want to bottle it and keep it forever. "Well… okay. I liked when you carried me on the fire escape. That's why I always made sure my shoes were off."

I tilt my head, blinking. That was on purpose?

"Of course," she says, bending down to kiss my cheek.

Or where it would be if it wasn't… teeth.

It stuns me momentarily, as always. I reach up and brush my fingers against the spot where her lips just were.

She climbs the ladder into the loft and I follow, pulling myself up through the hatch. The space is exactly as we left it. Her nest on my bed—our bed—a tangle of stolen blankets and pillows and team merchandise.

Ivy turns, puts both hands flat against my chest, and pushes.