Page 282 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

He shakes his head, a slow honest shake, and sighs. His eyes slide away awkwardly as he rubs his fist in a circular motion against his chest. Sorry.

"It's okay. I'm not upset." I kiss his nose. "Promise."

He nods, taking in and exhaling a longer, deeper breath.

I strain to reach for the flashlight, which fortunately ended up getting caught in the same roots, and flick my fingers against it until I manage to inch it close enough to grab.

I click it off. We don't need it. The moon is out and nearly full, and I'm sitting on Wraith, so it's not like it matters if a bear or mountain lion or whatever decides to try to make dinner out of me.

This feral alpha is the most terrifying thing in these woods.

He's also mine.

I cup his face in both hands and lean down to kiss him.

His sharp teeth are ice cold in the night air. It has to be uncomfortable. The wind stings enough on my bare skin.

"I love you," I whisper against his teeth. "I love you so much it's stupid. I love you and your giant scary self and the fact that you literally could not stay in the loft for twenty minutes without following me into the woods like a…"

I kiss his nose next, then his forehead, his cheekbones, his teeth again, everywhere I can kiss, and he blinks a little with each one, coming back to me in pieces, trying at first to move his face away from the kisses, then giving up.

"Like a giant feral golden retriever."

I kiss him again, just for good measure, and his chest shakes with laughter.

"But you need to go home. Okay? Go home and stay."

His chest heaves with another huff and he sits up slowly, pulling me with him so I don't topple off. He's fully back now, the feral light gone from his eyes, replaced by the soft sheepishness of an alpha who knows he fucked up.

He sets me on my feet like I weigh nothing, one hand under each arm, and steadies me against the slope until my boots find solid ground.

I brush mud off my jeans, adjust my duffel bag, and check my coat pocket.

Flare gun's still there.

"See?" I pat my pocket. "I've got my panic button. I'll be fine."

Wraith's jaw works.

"I don't need you to worry about me tonight, okay? This is something I want. Something I chose." I press my palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. "Go home. Get in the nest. Watch out the window if you want. I'll be back before you know it."

He exhales through his nose and cups both hands around my face, his scarred palms gentle against my cheeks, and bends down to press his forehead against mine. We stand like that for a few heartbeats.

Then he lets go.

He picks up my flashlight from the roots, wipes the mud off against his thigh, and hands it back to me.

Be safe, he signs. Please.

"Always."

He steps back, then another step, slowly, like he has to force himself. And he probably does. Then he turns and starts down the slope, his massive frame slipping down between the trees.

The path curves and I lose sight of him for a moment before the trees thin enough to give me one more glimpse. He's maybe forty feet below me, standing where the slope levels out, and he's stopped.

He's looking up at me.

My flashlight beam catches his face, shining off his sharp teeth and his worried blue eyes. There's no ferality in them this time.