Page 414 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I scrub the back of my wrist across my mouth. There's a damp patch on his chest roughly the size and shape of my open mouth.

For fuck's sake…

"How long have you been awake?" I demand.

"The entire time. Why?"

I try to sit up. His hand slides up my back and settles between my shoulder blades, and despite the lack of real pressure, it's enough for my exhausted body that I stay right where I am.

His thumb moves once against my spine. "I have never seen anyone go down that fast who wasn't concussed."

I press my forehead back against his chest because it's easier than looking at him.

"Don't tell Whiskey," I grumble. "I'll never hear the end of it."

"He already knows. I sent him a photograph."

"You what⁠—"

"Two, actually." A low sound rolls through his chest under my ear. "Ivy made one her lock screen."

I close my eyes.

Of course she did. I can't even bring myself to be surprised.

"I'm going to poison your tea."

"Hmmm." More caresses from his thumb. "You'd never waste tea like that."

He's correct.

Infuriatingly correct.

I need to get out of fucking bed. There's a cat coming home tomorrow, and there are supplies still in bags in the hallway that need to be unpacked and sorted, and I haven't checked my email since before the game, and Ivy is somewhere in the mountains with a feral alpha I fully trust but has teeth like⁠—

Valek gives a weary sigh. "Stop thinking. Breathe. Relax. Or you'll end up like Thane."

I shoot him a look. "End up like Thane how, exactly?"

"Covered in ice packs."

I roll my eyes, but I force myself to shut up and breathe.

He doesn't say anything else after that. It's the only reason I stay put. If he'd started harassing me, I would have been off this bed and down the hall in seconds. Instead he just lies there and lets me rest.

I haven't slept properly since the press conference. Four hours a night at best, most of them spent staring at the ceiling obsessing over all the shit going on.

I'm so tired my bones hurt.

His fingers slide up into my hair, and my whole scalp lights up. I dig my nails into his abdomen to punish him for it.

"Let me help you sleep," he whispers.

I lift my head. "I don't need⁠—"

"I didn't ask what you needed. I made you an offer."

"An offer to what?"