Page 60 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Thanks," I grumble, pushing myself up. "Been practicing."

"I can tell." She laughs. It's the best fucking sound I've ever heard in my life.

I take a moment to really look at her while I'm pretending to brush water off my jeans. She's wearing one of Wraith's sweatshirts that's way too big, hanging off one shoulder and going all the way down to her slightly scuffed-up knees like a dress. Her hair's in a messy bun, and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she looks... happy.

The same way Thane looked downstairs.

"Good morning," Plague says to Ivy, stepping forward with that formal politeness he can't seem to shake even when he's soaking wet and dripping all over someone's floor. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that you guys are back." Ivy moves closer, and I catch that honeysuckle scent that makes my hindbrain sit up and pay attention like a meerkat. "Valek didn't give you too much trouble, did he?"

I snort. "Define 'too much.'"

Her eyes widen. "Oh no. What happened?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Plague says smoothly, shooting me a warning look.

Which I ignore, because fuck that noise. "Knife psycho ran us off a mountain road and nearly killed us, but other than that, smooth sailing."

Ivy's mouth falls open. "He did what?"

"It wasn't that bad—" Plague starts.

"Dude, we rolled the car." I turn back to Ivy. "Like, full action movie shit. Upside down in a ditch. It was fucking epic."

"Epic isn't the word I'd use for that," she says with a dry laugh. "Are you guys okay?" She's looking between us now, frowning in genuine concern. "There's no way you guys can play next week if you were in a freaking car accident."

"We're fine," I reassure her, even though I kind of like being fussed over and my shoulder still hurts like a bitch. "Takes more than a car crash to put this Texas boy down."

"And you?" She turns to Plague. "You look sick."

Plague straightens immediately, offended. "I'm perfectly fine."

Ivy sighs and moves toward the mini kitchen area in the corner. Wraith follows her like a giant puppy. A giant shadow puppy. "Sit down, both of you. I'll make tea."

"You don't have to—" Plague starts, and I catch him feeling his own forehead with the back of his hand like he's checking for a fever. I grin at him and he cuts himself off, growling at me.

"I want to." She's already pulling out mugs, handing them to Wraith, who's more than happy to help. At least she was obviously in good hands while we were gone. "Besides, I need to hear this whole story about 'knife psycho' trying to murder you."

The couch creaks under my weight as I drop onto it, and Plague settles in beside me with that rigid posture he can't seem to shake even when he's exhausted. Wraith takes up position near the kitchenette where Ivy's bustling around making tea, helping happily with whatever she lets him do, his massive frame blocking half the light from the single dim lamp.

The loft really is dark as fuck up here.

Makes sense for a guy who hates being seen, I guess.

"Okay," Ivy says, bringing over steaming mugs on a tray. She hands one to me, one to Plague, keeps one for herself, and hands one to Wraith. He sets it aside, clearly not about to drink in front of us, but his intense eyes soften at the gesture. Ivy settles on the edge of the nest in the bed. "Start from the beginning. How did you even find Valek?"

"Thanks," I say, taking a sip.

I'm not a tea drinker, especially not chamomile without milk and sugar, but the tea's not half bad.

Actually, scratch that.

It's fucking perfect, because Ivy made it, and I'd drink motor oil if she handed it to me with that adorable smile of hers.

"Okay, so we tracked Valek to the hospital first thing," I start, setting my mug on the coffee table so I can gesture properly. "Fans had been posting his location all morning. Thank fuck for thirsty hockey groupies, am I right? Anyway, we're sitting in the parking lot like a couple of creeps, and—boom! There he is."

Ivy leans forward, eyes wide. "So he was going to the hospital?"