Page 273 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I set my mug in the sink, opening my mouth to say no.

She's already pulling me toward the stairs.

Or rather, I'm letting her. She can't physically move me, but I go with her anyway, because what the fuck else am I supposed to do?

Say no?

"I'm not going to sleep," I warn her as she leads me up to the hall.

She shrugs. "You don't have to. It'll still be nice."

I sigh, shadowing her to where the hatch to the dark loft hangs open. I hear Whiskey snoring and almost use that to give myself an excuse to have second thoughts, but Ivy's already halfway up the ladder, looking back at me with that sweet, cute smile.

"Valek," she says softly. "It's just sleep."

It isn't.

It isn't just anything with her.

Nothing is just anything anymore.

But I grab the rung above her hand and pull myself up.

The loft smells like all of them. Honeysuckle and winter-sharp snow and cinnamon-bourbon and woods, all kinds of alpha scents, all mingled together and stronger now with a marked omega among them. Wraith's wild and dark scent is harder to pin down, weakened by his physical state, but it's threaded through everything up here because this is his space.

I know the plan. He's the last to mark her.

Which means I'm supposed to be next.

The nest takes up most of the floor now. I heard chaos unfolding earlier while I was trying to read and now I know why. They managed to get every single mattress up here, and what appears to be every pillow and throw blanket as well. Whiskey's cape even managed to get into the nest, and Plague is wrapped in it, his version of a mark on display on the side of his neck.

Incredible Whiskey didn't bite through to the spine.

Wraith is on the far side, his massive frame curled protectively around the empty space where Ivy must have been. Even asleep, he's a barricade. His scarf is off and his scarred face rests against the pillow, jaw slack. His breathing is slow and deep.

The first real sleep he's gotten in days, maybe.

That makes one of us.

Ivy settles into the empty space beside Wraith, who shifts in his sleep and pulls her against his chest without waking. His massive arm drapes over her.

She looks back at me.

Pats the nest.

I lower myself to the edge, keeping my back against the wall. The pillow beneath me is warm from someone else's body heat. Plague's clean scent clings to it.

Ivy reaches over and tugs my wrist.

I let her make me lie down, following her movements as she arranges me like I'm part of the fucking nest. Plague rolls closer to me in his sleep with a soft growl, burrowing into my ribs, his dark hair spilling across my chest.

This is fucking terrifying.

I do nothing to stop any of it.

Ivy's fingers lace through mine and she pulls my hand against her sternum, tucking it beneath her chin. Her heartbeat thumps steadily against my knuckles.

"Close your eyes," she whispers.