Page 360 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

It doesn't.

My jaw still aches in the deep tissue where the injections went in, but it doesn't burn. I press my tongue carefully against the back of my teeth, checking. Wishing I could still taste her on them.

The nerve clusters beneath my ears pulse.

That's all.

I open my mouth slowly, then close it.

Nothing.

Press my tongue into the hinge of my jaw where it usually feels like shattered glass, and find only soreness.

Huh.

I keep waiting.

I don't trust this.

There have been plenty of times I thought I wasn't in pain only for it to slam into me out of nowhere. I trust it more when it hurts a little. This is strange and I don't like it at all.

So I lie there with my eyes open in the mostly dark tent and breathe through my nose, counting to a hundred, then back down again.

Still nothing.

Maybe the nerve injections haven't worn off yet.

Or I died and ended up in heaven, somehow.

All I want is to stay here in this exact moment, where nothing hurts and Ivy is warm against my chest, and I smell all of our scents mingling together.

Ivy is curled between us, her back pressed against my chest and her face tucked into the crook of Valek's shoulder. He's out cold on his back with one arm folded under his head and the other draped over her waist, his white hair half in his face.

I watch Ivy, taking in her dyed hair fanning out across the blanket in dark waves, her honeysuckle scent warm and content, her breathing rising and falling in a rhythm that makes my whole body want to match it.

She makes a small sound as if she can feel me watching her and burrows deeper against Valek without waking, and my arm tightens instinctively around her before I catch it.

Fuck. Too tight. She'll wake up.

I ease off, my arm brushing against Valek's.

His light eyes open immediately. He stares at the tent ceiling for a moment, perfectly still, then stretches and murmurs, his lips sticking together from sleep, "French toast."

I squint at him, signing one-handed over Ivy's shoulder. It's barely dawn.

He turns his head lazily to look at me. "Is there a better time for French toast?"

Guess there isn't.

Ivy stirs at the sound of Valek's voice. She tips her head back, blinks at me, blinks at Valek, and pulls the blanket over her face with a groan.

"Don't you dare go make breakfast without me," she says, muffled. "You still haven't finished filling my cuddle prescription."

"Watch out," Valek says dryly, pulling her closer. "Prescriptions are dirty talk to Plague. He'll sense it and get jealous."

She dissolves into a fit of giggles, squirming between us.

Too warm or not, I could stay here forever.