Chapter 32 – IVY
Chapter
Thirty-Two
IVY
Iwake to a gentle warmth surrounding me, cocooned safely against something solid and strong. My eyelids flutter open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through unfamiliar blinds.
The first thing I register is Wraith's bright blue eyes watching me, crinkled slightly at the corners in his version of a smile.
His massive arm curves protectively around my waist, cradling me against the hard planes of his chest. His skin radiates heat like a furnace, chasing away the morning chill. My legs are tangled with his, one of his massive thighs wedged between mine, anchoring me securely to him.
I breathe in his midnight forest scent and feel my muscles instinctively relax. My body remembers last night, how perfectly we fit together, how gently he held me through the fever of my heat.
He's still wearing his mask, but I can see by the way his eyes track my movements that he's fully awake and has probably been watching me sleep.
"Morning," I whisper, my voice scratchy from sleep.
And everything else we did last night.
Wraith doesn't speak, of course, but his massive hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face. His rough fingertips trail down my cheek in a feather-light caress.
I notice a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a subtle tension in his shoulders. He's worried, I realize. Worried I might regret what happened between us. Worried I might pull away now that the intensity of my heat has passed.
He couldn't be more wrong.
I snuggle closer, pressing my face against his chest. His heart thumps steadily under my ear, quickening slightly at my movement.
The sound makes me smile against his warm skin.
I trace lazy patterns across his scarred chest, feeling each ridge and valley beneath my fingertips.
His breathing deepens, and he adjusts our position, tucking me more securely against him.
"I'm glad you stayed," I murmur.
His arm tightens around me in response, large hand splayed across my lower back. He shifts slightly to accommodate my smaller frame, one hand moving to stroke my hair in long, soothing motions.
I think last night was the first time he was ever with an omega. Maybe anyone. But he clearly knows how to take care of one. Waking up in his arms like this, being caressed and stroked and snuggled and cherished, is nothing short of heavenly. Especially in the blissful post-heat haze.
Nothing about this feels like a mistake. Not the way my body curls perfectly against his massive frame, not the way his scent wraps around me like a shield against the outside world.
When I tilt my head up to look at him again, that tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes has deepened. Yet there's still something sad in his gaze. His thumb traces the curve of my shoulder, circling the place where my scar lies hidden beneath his borrowed shirt.
"You're worrying," I whisper, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "I can feel it."
His chest rises sharply as he takes a deep breath. Those piercing blue eyes search mine, looking for... doubt? Regret? Fear? He won't find any of those things.
"I don't regret anything now that my heat is over, if that's what you're worrying about," I tell him, answering the question he clearly isn't about to ask. "Not with you."
His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across the visible part of his face. Then he shakes his head, disbelief evident in his expression.
"Listen." I place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart speed up again beneath my palm.
His hand moves to cover mine, engulfing it completely.
"I like you, Wraith. And not just because I was in heat, and not just because we're scent matches.
I'm sure about that. But..." I pause, knowing I need to be honest with him.
"I also have a lot of other things to think about.
This is all happening so fast. Before you brought me here, I was hiding in abandoned maintenance tunnels.
And now I'm here in your pack house, finding out I'm scent-matched not only to you, but to an entire pack of alphas I don't know. "
His expression grows more serious, but he nods, understanding.
"And I'm still..." I struggle to find the right words. "Dealing with everything that's happened. The nightmares. The fear. The way I still flinch sometimes when someone moves too quickly." I offer a small, wry smile. "I'm a work in progress, is what I'm saying."
Wraith's free hand comes up to touch my face, his thumb brushing gently across my cheekbone. His eyes say what his voice can't. Take your time. I understand. I'm not going anywhere.
"Thank you," I whisper, leaning into his touch.
We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other's warmth, touching softly and breathing together. His chest rises and falls in perfect harmony with mine. He shifts occasionally to stroke my hair or trace the curve of my spine, each touch reverent and unhurried.
The morning light grows stronger, slipping through the blinds to cast stripes of gold across the bed. When I finally shift to stretch, Wraith props himself up on one elbow and tilts his head, regarding me with a question in his eyes before signing with his free hand.
H-U-N-G-R-Y?
Now that he mentions it, I am starving. After everything yesterday—the shot, the fever, and our night together—my stomach feels hollow.
"Yes," I admit. "Very."
He sits up fully, the sheet falling to pool around his waist. Even in the relative darkness, the scars across his chest and shoulders are visible.
Burns, cuts, surgical marks—his body tells a story of unimaginable pain.
Yet despite all that, there's something almost adorable about him this morning.
His dark hair is mussed from sleep and his movements are slower and less guarded than usual. Like a giant groggy cat.
He signs something else, more complex this time.
"Sorry," I say. "I didn't catch that."
Wraith reaches for his phone on the nightstand and types quickly before showing me the screen.
Not much food. Protein bars, fruit. Can make something downstairs or get takeout.
"You can make something," I say, knowing how much he dislikes going out in public.
He types again. Will be bad.
"It's okay," I say, stretching across his lap again, trying to keep him in bed.
Wraith's massive hand strokes my hair, running through the strands. Despite his size and strength, he's so gentle and tender with me. I close my eyes, soaking in the comfort of this quiet moment together.
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, the sound breaking our peaceful bubble. I press my face against his chest, embarrassed.
"Sorry," I mumble. "I guess I really am hungry."
His chest rumbles with what sounds like growling laughter.
When I peek up at his face, his eyes are smiling again.
Based on what I felt last night when I kissed him through his mask, I don't think the rest of his face can smile.
I doubt he was exaggerating when he told me he doesn't have lips or cheeks.
But I try not to think about it, if only because I know he wouldn't want me to.
It doesn't matter anyway. I don't care what he looks like.
And those blue eyes smile plenty.
"I should take a shower while you're downstairs," I tell him, reluctantly pulling away. "Oh, and you can move the dresser from the trapdoor instead of going down the fire escape. Just... you'll still be in the pack house, right? You won't let anyone else up here?"
Wraith nods and signs, I P-R-O-M-I-S-E. He slides out of bed, and I try not to stare too openly at his incredible body as he pulls on a pair of loose gray sweatpants.
After moving the dresser away from the trapdoor as if it weighs as much as a cardboard box, he pauses to look back at me, his gaze intense and questioning. I offer a small smile of reassurance.
"I'll be fine. And I'm not going anywhere."
He nods and disappears through the hatch in the floor, closing it gently behind him.
Once alone, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, allowing myself a moment to process everything.
But my brain feels like it's full of molasses right now, so I force myself to get out of bed and head into the bathroom to turn the shower on.
As I climb in and steam fills the space, I let my mind wander.
There's an entire pack downstairs. Three more alphas who are my supposed scent matches along with Wraith. What does that even mean for me? And what happens when they all realize who I really am?
I rinse my hair, watching suds swirl down the drain. If I stay with Wraith, which is something I now know my heart has fully decided it wants, Wade will find out. And he won't be alone. He'll bring the full force of his family's money and influence.
I'm not just hiding from Wade. I'm hiding from an empire.
Can Wraith protect me from that? Could the whole pack, if I decide to accept them along with him?
God, Wraith doesn't even know I'm Wade's ex. It's not like I was allowed to go to games with Wade. He was too jealous.
Funny how the universe works.
I'm going to need to tell him. All of them, honestly. There's no way around that.
The water begins to cool, and I reluctantly turn it off. At least I don't have to make any decisions right now. I can put it off for a while.
I finish my shower and wrap myself in a towel, realizing I don't have clean clothes. After a moment's hesitation, I borrow one of Wraith's t-shirts, which hangs like a dress on my frame, and a pair of athletic shorts I have to roll several times at the waist.
When I emerge, Wraith still hasn't returned. I check my phone. Twenty minutes have passed. How long does it take to make food? Does he even cook? The overcooked noodles he brought me suggest he might be struggling down there.
My curiosity gets the better of me. If I'm potentially scent-matched to this entire pack, shouldn't I at least meet them? Find out who they are beyond what Internet searches told me?
Taking a deep breath, I approach the trapdoor. It's time to stop hiding and face whatever's waiting downstairs, even if I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do about any of this.
Well, any of it but Wraith.