Page 369 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I brush off the leaves and drop onto the bench beside the walkway.

Valek keeps standing for another few seconds. His silver eyes narrow. The wind pushes his hair across his face and he shoves it back, frustrated.

But he sits beside me, one leg crossed over the other, the dead flowers balanced across his knee.

I wait, watching the trees. A bird lands on the bench between us, hops around, watching us, decides we're boring, and flits away.

"The staff at the children's home used to say the same thing," Valek says. "That I was empty and wrong. That something was missing inside me." He picks a dried petal off the bouquet and rolls it between his finger and thumb until it disintegrates. "They weren't incorrect."

The sleeve of his button-down pulls at the motion, a few cigarette burns showing at the cuff.

"You told me about the children's home," I say carefully. "But you never talk about before that."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Because you don't remember, or because you don't want to?"

A leaf skitters across the walkway between our feet. He watches it boredly, brushing the petal dust off his fingers.

"A shoebox," he says finally. "There was a shoebox, on the steps of a church in January. That's where I start. That's all there is."

"How old were you?"

"Days. A week, perhaps."

The wind pushes through the cherry trees above us, freeing more curling leaves from the branches.

He uncrosses his legs, sets the dead bouquet on the bench beside him, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "I don't have a Claire to visit. I don't have a mother who screams when she sees me, or a mother who locked me in a basement, or a mother who forgets. In some ways, I'm lucky. All I know is she didn't want me."

I press my knee against his.

He doesn't pull away.

"I want you," I tell him softly.

His lips curve slightly. "I suppose."

"Yeah." I bump his boot with mine. "And you're perfect for me. Do you have any idea how overwhelming Whiskey's exuberant rabid golden retriever energy would be in the bond if it weren't for you toning him down?"

He turns his head, grinning now. "Doesn't Plague take care of that already?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. Plague riles him up. They're probably the only two alphas who can manage to fight through a fucking bond."

That makes him chuckle a little as he stands, facing me. He stoops down, way down, and takes my face in his rough hands, tilting mine up to his. He gazes at me for a second, so longingly I can barely breathe.

"Val…"

He presses his cool lips against mine, and whatever I was about to say evaporates from my head completely.

"And you are perfect for me, too," he whispers. "Moya malenkaya omega."

Chapter 76

Whiskey

Don't make it weird.

That's the mission.