Page 418 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I mean to stay awake.

Truly, I do.

Specifically, I mean to keep track of him, because keeping track of Valek is clearly going to be a lifelong project for me now, and I am nothing if not thorough.

Instead I turn my face into the pillow that smells like winter air and steel and go out like a light.

Chapter 87

Valek

Thane is at the counter with his laptop open, his hair shoved back off his face, sipping from a mug of coffee despite the evening hour. The moment I step into the room, his eyes come up over the rim of the mug and stay there.

I go to the cabinet and take down two glasses.

He keeps staring.

I fill the first with warm water at the tap, humming.

He sets the mug down. "So, uh." He clears his throat. "What did I just overhear?"

"Plague having an orgasm."

Thane closes his eyes.

I set the first glass aside and fill the second with filtered water from the fridge. Thane says nothing, but I feel him watching me as I open the drawer beside the stove and glance over the folded dish towels. Hmm. No. He won't like these. They're ratty. The linen closet in the hall has the good ones. He rotates those on a schedule.

I take two. And a fresh flat sheet from the second shelf, because I know exactly what he's going to be upset about when he regains his energy.

"What are you doing, exactly?" he asks, his brow furrowing.

"Aftercare." I look up. "I'm not a barbarian."

He snorts.

I go into the pantry for the chocolates Whiskey bought and hid behind the rice, believing nobody would find it. Everyone found it. I take three.

I balance both glasses in one hand, the towels and sheet over my shoulder, chocolates in my teeth, and go back up the stairs.

Plague is exactly where I left him, on his side under the duvet, one arm folded beneath the pillow, his dark hair spread across the pillowcase. His breathing is slow and even, full lips slightly parted.

I set the glasses of water on the nightstand with the chocolates beside them. Then I kneel on the mattress with one of the towels and a glass of water, wet the corner, and peel back the duvet start on the mess.

He stirs when the cool cloth touches his stomach.

"Mm—what⁠—"

"Shh."

His eyes crack open. He looks down at what I'm doing and looks utterly mortified. Adorable. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Cleaning you," I say, shoving a chocolate between his slightly bared teeth to silence him. "Don't you like to be clean?"

"Give me that," he grumbles, swallowing the chocolate and snatching the towel from my hands.

I let him, sitting back to watch. "Do you need the new sheet?" I ask, nodding to the flat sheet on my shoulder.

He looks at it.