Page 306 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Hold on," Whiskey says, stepping into Wraith's path with one hand raised. "Put her down."

Wraith’s growl kicks up again as he shifts his grip and turns his shoulder slightly, angling her away from Whiskey's outstretched hand.

"Wraith," Whiskey says.

A low rumble.

"Buddy."

The rumble deepens.

“Bro. I just want to look at her," Whiskey says, dropping his voice. "C'mon. Two seconds."

Wraith holds out for another moment before he sighs through his nose and sets her on her feet, keeping both hands loosely around her waist like he’s going to snatch her back if Whiskey takes longer than the promised two seconds.

“Time’s ticking,” Ivy says, grinning.

Whiskey crouches with his hands on his knees in front of her immediately. His warm eyes make a careful sweep over her face as his thumb comes up and brushes off some dried mud on her chin, surprisingly gentle.

I didn't know the bull-in-alpha-form could be gentle.

Then he rotates her wrists, inspecting the bruises, and his jaw goes rock hard.

"Good kind," she tells him quickly, the same thing she told Wraith. "I promise."

Plague appears at her other side like smoke, silent and cool. He takes her chin lightly between two fingers and tips her face left, then right.

“What do you think, doc?” Whiskey asks dryly, straightening to his full height. “Anything broken?”

“She’s fine,” Plague sighs, rolling his eyes at the nickname and releasing Ivy with a soft kiss to her forehead. He gives me a quick once-over. "Are you?"

"Debatable," I reply with a shrug.

Plague's eyes lock on the bite mark Ivy left on me. I adjust the collar of my shirt with a quick tug, but it's too late. All eyes are on it now.

"Bro, is that a mark on you?" Whiskey sputters. "She bit you?"

"You know," Ivy interrupts, "if you’re jealous, you could always chase me through the woods yourselves and see if you can catch me."

"I’m not jealous, I just⁠—"

"Come to bed," she says, cutting off whatever is about to become a ten-minute argument, and she catches Whiskey's hand and tugs. He follows, scowling past her at me with the competitive energy of an overgrown golden retriever. One who has just spotted another dog sitting in his favorite spot.

I flash a grin at him.

We all follow her up into the loft, or rather, the others do.

Her feral shadow first, of course, then Thane.

Plague and Whiskey argue at the bottom because Whiskey doesn't trust Plague near his ass. Plague goes up first, warily, sideways, and Whiskey still manages to spank him.

Plague kicks out so fast at Whiskey's head he nearly falls off the ladder.

I wait patiently until the ladder is clear and the familiar sounds of Whiskey and Plague chewing each other out disappears into the loft before climbing up after them, pausing halfway up the ladder to look warily into the nest.

Ivy crawls into the center of the nest with happy little omega sounds as the other four alphas settle around her.

Wraith folds himself down behind her and she leans into him immediately, his massive arm curling around her waist. Thane takes Wraith's other side, dropping onto his back with a long, tired groan of a sigh and flopping an arm over Wraith's hip.