Page 454 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I'm in a good mood tonight. Such a good mood that I even laugh when Whiskey puts his championship cap on my head backward.

Winning the Cup has made me unusually charitable.

And my family is here.

Ours, now.

Eventually, Thane stands, using his captain voice to herd everyone toward the door while he collects the coats and warns Whiskey off convincing my siblings to relocate the Cup to a nightclub.

He has plans, too, it seems.

We make it into the hall in a loose group. My mother hugs Whiskey first, her arms unable to get anywhere near around him. He lifts her easily off the floor, her legs kicking, before remembering she recently had hand surgery and sets her down with a panicked apology even though she's squealing with joy.

She pats his cheek. “Call me, kid.”

His face splits into a grin. “I will.”

Ivy gets the hug treatment next. My mother calls her "bonus daughter," and Ivy calls her "bonus mom." They share a quick cheek peck, and my mother goes in for a second hug, a crushing one that makes Ivy croak while trying not to jostle her splint.

Plague receives an only slightly more restrained embrace, which he returns after a stunned pause. My father shakes his hand. Caleb hugs him anyway, then turns him over to Rae for the final crushing squeeze, telling him they're going to fly us all to their house next and have a proper adoption party.

Plague appears scandalized, and by the time he escapes the Carters, he's overwhelmed enough to dust himself off.

I catch him by the waist and pull him against my side.

“Breathe, moy mikrobik.”

He looks away so I won’t see the smile.

Wraith hangs back near the wall, waiting while Ivy helps one of the children into a coat, trying to keep out of their direct line of sight.

My mother approaches him last.

He braces, as if he's expecting something bad to happen to him.

I understand that more than he knows.

She gives him a brief hug around the middle, since reaching his neck would require climbing equipment for her. He bends awkwardly and places one enormous hand between her shoulders.

“Text me when you get home,” she says, patting him.

He nods, and she walks away with extra bounce in her step, followed by the kids.

He watches her go, mystified.

I know that look, too. I had it once.

The mounted rubber fish on the wall behind him jerks.

It swings its head out from the wooden plaque and starts flapping violently, launching into a tinny dead-batteries sea shanty at full volume.

Wraith wheels with a savage snarl, hands snapping into claws. His blue eyes lock onto the motion-activated animatronic fish, flaring with aggressive terror, then bewilderment as Ivy pulls on his arm and tells him it's fine through her wheezing laughter.

I grin at him. "Put him back."

Wraith’s blazing eyes cut to me.

Then understanding hits and he shoves me hard enough that I stumble. Whiskey howls with laughter even though he has absolutely no idea what's so funny. He wasn't on the camping trip with us, where I discovered just how soft the supposedly terrifying feral alpha's heart is.