Page 66 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

When I emerge from the bathroom, towel-drying my freshly darkened hair, I find the entire pack crammed into the loft as usual.

Thane's sprawled across the couch, legs dangling over the armrest, scrolling through game footage on his tablet with laser focus and his brow furrowed so tight, he's going to give himself another migraine. Whiskey's sitting on the floor with his back against the coffee table, chatting with Plague, who's trying in vain to read a book. It doesn't look like he's made any progress on said book, either. And Wraith hovers near the bathroom door like he just happened to be there at the same time I came out.

"Hair looks good," Whiskey announces, hauling himself to his feet and lumbering up to me to check it out. "Very 'mysterious omega on the run.' Very Carmen Sandiego. Hot."

"Shut up," Plague and I say simultaneously.

Whiskey grins back at Plague. "See? You two are basically the same person. It's beautiful."

I grab one of the decorative pillows from the nearby bed and chuck it at his head.

He catches it without looking and turns to me, his grin widening. "Edward Fuckin' Cullen reflexes right here."

I roll my eyes, but even though tomorrow's game looms like a thunderhead on the horizon, I can't help but laugh. "Gods, you are such a pain in the ass."

"But I'm your pain in the ass," Whiskey says affectionately, pressing a friendly, chaste kiss to the top of my head.

I haven't made anything official with anyone but Wraith yet, but being around these alphas whenever they have even a moment of free time has helped me move past the fact I've only known them for a couple of weeks. If the average date is a couple of hours, it's been the equivalent of…

Well, I've never been the best at math.

But a lot of dates.

I'm going to say yes to the pack.

And I think in their hearts, they know it's inevitable. But they're just giving me the space I need to process everything. They never do anything more than cuddle with me or maybe give me a peck or nuzzle here and there. At night, we all sleep together on the floor on the mattresses we ordered to make an entire section of the loft a giant bed for us. It's like camping twenty-four-seven.

The mattresses are that thin foam type that comes in a roll because nothing else would fit through the window, and it was admittedly kind of hilarious to watch the four alphas arguing as they struggled to get the mattresses up the fire escape. We haven't unsealed the loft door yet because Valek is still a wildcard.

That's something I'm going to have to address before tomorrow.

I shove my hands into the pockets of Thane's oversized hoodie—because somehow most of my clothes have become "borrowed" from these alphas at this point—and clear my throat.

"I need to talk to Valek and tell him who I am."

The loft goes dead silent.

Thane's head snaps up from his tablet. Plague's book drops to his lap with an audible thump. Whiskey freezes mid-reach for a bag of chips, hand suspended in air like someone hit pause on him. Wraith's wary growl rumbles through the space.

Before anyone can start arguing, I cross my arms, settling my weight onto one hip. "I wasn't asking permission. Tomorrow's the game. Wade's going to be there. I'm going to be there, hiding in the crowd like some kind of fugitive, and I need to know where Valek stands before I step foot in that arena."

"Ivy—" Plague starts, but I cut him off.

"Look, I knocked him out with a fire extinguisher, remember?" I say, keeping my voice gentle but firm. "That's literally how he ended up living here in the first place. I can handle him."

"That was different," Thane argues, setting his tablet aside and sitting up. "You had the element of surprise."

"And the element of a feral shadow daddy," Whiskey adds, jerking his head toward Wraith, who looks utterly bewildered.

"Which is why I need to talk to him." I look at each of them in turn, making sure they understand this is my decision and I won't be budged on it. "If he's going to be a problem, I'd rather find out now. Not tomorrow."

The logic is sound and they know it.

Doesn't mean they like it.

"We'll go with you," Plague says, already standing.

"No." I shake my head. "That will make it so much worse. He'll either see it as a threat or a weakness on my part. Like I need my alphas to protect me all the time."