Page 14 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Of fucking course.

"Great," I mutter, checking my phone. No signal. The little bars mock me with their absence, along with a cute little satellite icon that says SOS. "Just fantastic."

What am I going to do? Call emergency services and get my mate hurt or worse?

Even feral alphas that look normal are treated like monsters. And when they're perceived to be a threat, which doesn't take much, they're killed.

Some people believe feral alphas shouldn't even be in public. That they should be locked up, imprisoned and sedated, in cells.

Not only are Wraith's teeth even sharper than the ferals I've seen, they're all permanently visible, even at a distance.

He's the most obviously feral alpha ever.

The first drops of rain start falling just when I start trying to get a fire going with the waterproof matches from the camping kit. Wraith hasn't moved from his spot at the edge of the clearing, just standing there in the growing darkness with my scarf slowly sliding off his face, his sharp teeth glinting in the struggling flames I'm coaxing to life.

My hindbrain shrieks all over again. I hate it. Hate that some stupid primitive part of me sees danger.

"It's just Wraith," I scold myself in a harsh whisper, trying to stack the kindling so it shields the baby flames from the rain. "Your alpha. Your mate. He would die before he hurt you. Chill the fuck out."

The rain starts in earnest just as I get the fire properly going. Within minutes, it's a downpour.

Bye, fire.

"Wraith!" I call out, having to raise my voice over the sound of rain on leaves. "We have to get out of the storm!"

He doesn't move.

I try a different approach, letting vulnerability creep into my voice. "I'm cold. And I'm scared. Please?"

I take a step toward the tent, but my foot slips in the slick mud.

The ground rushes toward me and⁠—

Strong arms catch me.

He's there. Suddenly, impossibly there, moving faster than anyone should be able to move. One moment he's twenty feet away, the next he's holding me. The rain coming down runs over his sharp teeth and the exposed muscle of his jaw in rivulets.

"There you are," I whisper, reaching up to caress his scarred face.

Wraith flinches, those lost blue eyes blinking. His eyes clear for exactly three seconds—just long enough for panic to bleed in again, long enough for him to start trying to turn his face away from mine—and then they go dark again like fog rolling back in.

This is fucking awful.

It feels like I'm watching him surface from deep water only to sink back down. He's fighting his feral nature to stay with me, but other than the fact that he's still holding me, I can't tell if he's winning that fight.

I need him to win.

Gods, I need him to win.

Shifting my weight in his arms, he slips into the tent, ducking through the entrance. He sinks to his knees, setting me on the blanket, and slumps against the tent wall. Whatever void he's retreated into has already buried him again.

The space is barely big enough for both of us, but at least it's moderately warm with his body heat radiating off his skin. I crack a few glowsticks from the bag and eerie green light fills the tent. My inner omega flings itself around again like a stupid bird in a cage that's too small.

Outside, the rain pounds against the canvas with increasing viciousness, and I realize with growing dread that this storm is going to wash away our scent trail completely.

Thane will never find us in this.

We're alone out here.