Chapter 28 – IVY
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
IVY
The moment the door closes behind us, I let out a shaky breath and press a palm to my forehead, suddenly lightheaded. If it weren't for the night air, cool and soothing against my flushed skin, I'd need to sit down.
Wraith's huge hand brushes my shoulder gently, drawing my attention. He signs to me.
O-K?
"I'm fine," I assure him, though fine is probably the last thing I am right now. "Just... processing."
He nods, understanding in his gaze. Then he gestures toward the fire escape, a question in the tilt of his head.
"Yeah," I murmur. "Let's go back up."
The fire escape stretches above us, a metal skeleton clinging to the side of the pack house.
I stare up at the first platform, at least eight feet off the ground—easy enough for Wraith to reach, but well beyond my grasp.
The cool night air nips at my exposed skin, making me pull his oversized coat tighter around my shoulders.
"I guess there's no ladder that comes down?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
Wraith shakes his head. R-U-S-T-E-D. Those intense blue eyes are still studying me as his hands move in the air between us, gesturing to himself, then to me, then upward.
"You want to lift me up again?" I translate.
He nods, a question in his eyes. Asking permission. Always asking, never assuming. It's such a stark contrast to what I've grown used to that it still catches me off guard every time.
"Okay," I agree, stepping closer to him.
Wraith positions himself in front of me, those massive hands hovering near my waist, not quite touching. Waiting for my final confirmation.
I nod, and his hands settle on my waist, engulfing it completely. His touch is gentle despite the raw power I know those hands possess—power I just witnessed demolishing half the living room downstairs. He could crush me without effort, yet his grip is feather-light, almost reverent.
"Ready?" I ask, placing my hands on his broad shoulders for balance.
Another nod, and then I'm being lifted into the air as if I weigh nothing at all. The world tilts and shifts as he raises me toward the platform. I reach up, grabbing the metal railing to steady myself as he lifts me higher.
Then my foot catches on the edge of his coat, throwing me slightly off balance. My grip on the railing slips. Wraith adjusts instantly, his hands shifting to better support me, but the sudden movement brings our faces unexpectedly close.
Our noses brush, a whisper of contact that sends electricity shooting through my entire body.
Time freezes.
We're suspended in this moment, our faces inches apart, his blue eyes wide with surprise. Through the thin fabric of his mask, I can feel his breath against my lips, slightly uneven. His woodsy scent fills my lungs, making my head spin.
Something flashes in those eyes—hunger, longing, fear—before he blinks it away. His grip on my waist tightens fractionally, his fingers pressing into my slight frame beneath his oversized coat.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic rhythm I'm certain he can feel through his palms. The air between us feels charged, crackling with an energy I can't name but recognize bone-deep.
Then, with a gentle push, he lifts me the rest of the way onto the platform, breaking the spell. I scramble onto the metal grating, suddenly unsteady. When I look down, Wraith has already stepped back, his expression unreadable above his mask.
"Thanks," I manage, my voice sounding strangely breathless to my own ears.
He nods once, then reaches up to grab the edge of the platform. With a single, fluid movement that speaks of incredible strength, he pulls himself up beside me, the metal creaking slightly under his weight.
We stand there for a moment, neither of us moving, the tension from our almost-kiss still hanging in the air between us. Then Wraith gestures toward the stairs leading up to the loft, his movements stiff and formal.
After you.
I turn and begin climbing, acutely aware of his presence behind me. Each step up the fire escape feels like it's taking me further from the chaos below and closer to the sanctuary I've somehow carved out for myself in the place I least expected I'd be safe. An alpha's den.
The window to the loft is still open from when I climbed out earlier. I duck through it, Wraith following close behind. The familiar space welcomes me back, the scent of pho still lingering in the air.
God, I'm hungry.
Wraith takes my coat—his coat—and hangs it up on the rack before offering me another sweatshirt of his. "Thanks," I say, pulling it on. The air in the loft is nippier after the window was left open, and the warm fabric with his scent clinging to it feels heavenly against my skin.
He doesn't respond this time. Instead, he moves past me to the coffee table where he left the takeout bag. He busies himself with unpacking the food, his movements mechanical and stiff. There's a new tension in his strong shoulders that wasn't there before.
He's shutting down. Pulling away.
I recognize the signs because I've done the same thing countless times. When emotions become too overwhelming, when vulnerability feels too dangerous, you retreat behind walls. You go through the motions. You pretend everything is fine while keeping everyone at arm's length.
But I don't want that.
Not with him. Not after everything.
"Wraith," I say softly.
He pauses but doesn't turn around, his massive frame going still.
"Can we talk? About what happened downstairs? About... us?"
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he finally turns to face me. His blue eyes meet mine, guarded and wary, but he nods.
I take a step toward him, then another, closing some of the distance between us. "You knew we were scent matches, didn't you? From the beginning?" I ask, keeping my voice gentle despite my nerves amping up.
His hands lift, hesitating, before lowering. He just nods instead without an explanation.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Looking away, his jaw works visibly beneath his mask. When his hands move again, the signs are slow, deliberate.
D-I-D-N-T... W-A-N-T... T-O… P-R-E-S-S-U-R-E... Y-O-U.
"You didn't want to pressure me," I repeat, making sure I understand. "Because I was sick? Because I was scared?"
He nods. Then his gaze flicks to the floor and he adds, A-N-D... B-E-C-A-U-S-E... O-F... M-E.
"Because of you?" I frown, not following. "What do you mean?"
He keeps his eyes on the floor as his hands move again, more hesitant now.
L-O-O-K... A-T... M-E.
He gestures to his masked face, his scarred eye, his massive height and frame. All of him. The simple statement breaks my heart.
"I am looking at you," I say softly. "I've been looking at you since the moment we met."
His eyes widen slightly as he glances up, disbelief clear in those blue depths.
"I appreciate that you didn't want to pressure me," I continue, taking another step closer. "That you gave me space and time. That you respected my boundaries when no one else has. But I need to know something."
He waits, watching me with an intense gaze.
"Was it only because you didn't want to pressure me?" I ask carefully, weighing the words on my tongue before speaking. So much is hinging on me not screwing this up. "Or… was it also because you didn't think I'd want you if I knew?"
The question hangs heavily in the air between us. Wraith's eyes close briefly, a flash of pain crossing what little I can see of his face. When they open again, there's a raw vulnerability in them that makes my chest tighten.
His hands move, forming a single word.
B-O-T-H.
The honesty in that admission, the courage it must have taken to acknowledge his fear of rejection, makes my chest ache. I close the remaining distance between us, stopping just a foot away.
"You're wrong," I say softly. "About me not wanting you."
Pupils dilating, his eyes search my face for any sign of deception or pity. He finds neither.
"I do want you, Wraith. Scent match or not."
A slight tremor runs through him, so subtle I might have missed it if I weren't standing so close, and his throat moves beneath the black fabric of his mask. His hands lift, hovering in the air between us as if he's afraid to form the words.
W-H-Y?
Such a simple question.
Such a complicated answer.
I swallow hard, struggling to find words for something that feels more like instinct than thought. "God, I don't—" I start and stop, running my hand through my hair. "It's not just what you've done for me, Wraith. It's... you."
He watches me, his gaze unreadable.
My heart hammers as I speak. "The way you fill up a room just by existing.
How my skin practically buzzes when you're near me.
" I laugh nervously, unable to meet the intensity of his stare.
"Even that first day in the tunnels, when you were behind me at the vending machines and you scared the shit out of me. There was this... pull."
Forcing myself to look at him now, heat crawls up my neck. "Your shoulders. Your hands. Those blue eyes that somehow see right through me. The way you move—like some giant predator who's constantly holding back. It does something to me."
His brow furrows slightly, doubt creeping into his gaze. He doesn't understand why that would be attractive to me. That's okay. He doesn't need to. He just needs to believe me.
"So when I say I want you," I continue, my voice steadier now, "I mean I want you—not just the alpha who helped me when I needed it. Your body, your scent, everything about you that makes my inner omega respond. Not just because you were kind and good and protective when other alphas weren't."
Wraith stands perfectly still, as if he's afraid I'll change my mind if he moves an inch, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I see you, Wraith," I murmur. "And I've wanted you from the beginning."
The silence that follows feels endless. Wraith's chest rises and falls with slow but shallow breaths. Then, slowly, he signs.
N-O-T... S-C-A-R-E-D?
"Of you?" I shake my head. "Never."