Page 8 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Violent.

Everything people think I am.

Through the haze of blood dripping into my eyes, I catch that honeysuckle and summer rain scent, a glimpse of ocean eyes wide but not backing down.

The nightmare memory crumbles.

Ivy.

It's Ivy.

Fuck.

No no no…

I just fucking snarled at Ivy.

At the girl I love.

The one person who sees me as something other than a monster.

And now she sees exactly what I am.

My legs give out. I sink against the tree, sliding down the rough bark until I hit the ground. Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down, but it burns all the way back to my stomach as I bury my bleeding face in my hands.

"Wraith?"

Her voice is soft.

Too soft.

Like she's trying not to scare me.

"Hey," she murmurs, and I feel her settle beside me, not touching but close enough that I smell her honeysuckle over the copper of my blood. "You're bleeding…"

I flinch away automatically when she reaches for me.

"Wraith, let me see."

I shake my head violently. Bad enough she saw during the struggle. Bad enough she saw me snarling at her like the fucking beast I am.

Don't need to make it worse.

Movement beside me.

Ivy shifting closer.

Climbing into my lap.

What the fuck is she doing?

And why?

How could she want to be anywhere near me right now?

Her weight settles across my thighs, warm and solid and real, and my body doesn't know how to process this. Every instinct screams at me to push her away, to protect her from seeing something up close that will haunt her nightmares forever.

To protect her from me.