Chapter 44 – WHISKEY
Chapter
Forty-Four
WHISKEY
The words hit me like a slap shot to the gut.
I'll let you get me through my heat.
My brain short-circuits for a hot second, trying to process what Ivy just said. She's sitting there in her nest, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, honeysuckle scent so thick in the air I can practically taste it. And she's offering herself to us.
To us.
Both of us.
"You sure about that, sweetheart?" I ask, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. My cock is already stirring again despite having just come down Plague's throat. Alpha biology is a hell of a thing.
She nods, but there's something vulnerable in her eyes that makes my chest tight.
Plague shifts beside me, still trying to catch his breath. His hair's a mess, lips swollen from my cock, and there's something almost fragile about him right now that I've never seen before. Like all that ice prince armor got stripped away.
"We won't hurt you," I say, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "I promise."
"I know." Her voice is soft but sure. "That's why I'm asking."
The trust in her words hits me hard. This omega who's been hurt, who's been running and hiding, is choosing to be vulnerable with us. With me.
Plague clears his throat, already trying to rebuild those walls. "Perhaps we should establish some parameters," he says, slipping back into that clinical tone. "Boundaries. Expectations."
"Geez, Plague," I mutter. "You gonna make a fucking spreadsheet?"
"I'm trying to ensure everyone's comfort and safety," he snaps back, but there's less bite to it than usual.
Ivy laughs a little. "No spreadsheets. Just... be gentle. And patient. It's been a while since I've been with anyone I actually wanted to be with. Well… before Wraith." Her already flushed cheeks flush deeper.
Wade Kelly. That piece of shit alpha who hurt her, who made her run. I'm gonna kill that motherfucker when I see him next. My hands clench into fists before I force them to relax.
"We'll take care of you," I promise, following her back to the nest. "Whatever you need."
Her skin is burning hot even from here, fever-bright from her approaching heat. "I need to feel safe. To know I have a choice."
"You always have a choice," Plague says quietly, and when I look at him, his sharp blue eyes are soft in a way I've never seen. "Always."
Ivy shifts in her nest, and the movement sends another wave of honeysuckle through the air.
My cock twitches, already half-hard again despite having just come.
The sight of her surrounded by all those soft blankets, wearing my feral packmate's oversized shirt, pupils blown wide with need—it's enough to make any alpha lose his mind.
But she's not just any omega. She's ours. Our scent match. And she's been hurt by an alpha before.
That thought sobers me faster than a bucket of ice water.
"Can I touch you?" I ask, moving closer to the bed but not climbing onto it. Not yet.
She nods, reaching out to me. Her small hand finds mine, and I'm struck again by how delicate she feels in comparison to me. The protective instinct that surges through me is so strong it makes my chest ache.
Although small or not, she's fierce as fuck.
"You're burning up," I murmur, feeling the fever heat of her skin.
"Heat's getting stronger," she admits, her voice breathy. "The suppressant is wearing off."
Plague moves to the other side of the bed. "We should help you out of these clothes," he says gently. "You'll be more comfortable."
Ivy hesitates for a moment, then nods. She sits up, pulling Wraith's shirt over her head in one fluid motion. My breath hitches at the sight of her bare skin, the gentle curves of her breasts, the way the light from the bedside lamp makes her glow.
But it's the scar at her shoulder that makes my vision go red for a moment. The angry, raised mark where Wade Kelly marked her and she had to burn it off to escape him.
I'm not just gonna kill him. I'm gonna grab that pretty boy by his ankles, sharpen his helmet of gelled hair into a spade edge, and use him like a human shovel to dig his own grave right in center ice.
Then I'm gonna bury his ass alive.
"Whiskey," Ivy's soft voice pulls me back from the edge of rage. "I'm okay."
"Yeah," I grit out. "You are. And you're gonna stay that way."
She smiles at that, a real smile that transforms her whole face. Then she's reaching for me again, pulling me down onto the bed beside her. The mattress dips under my weight, and she curls into my side like she belongs there.
Maybe she does.
Plague settles on her other side, his movements cautious and controlled. Always so fucking controlled. But I can see the way his hands shake slightly as he reaches for her, the way his breathing has gone shallow.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his fingers ghosting over her ribs.
"More than okay," she breathes, arching into his touch.
And then we're touching her together, learning the map of her body with gentle hands. I trace the curve of her hip while Plague's fingers trail along her collarbone. She's so responsive, gasping and sighing at every caress, her scent growing stronger by the minute.
"So beautiful," I murmur against her temple, pressing kisses to her hair. "So fucking perfect."
Plague's hand finds her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it peaks. She moans, her back arching off the bed, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
"Please," she whispers, and that single word breaks what little restraint I have left.
I kiss her then, deep and hungry, swallowing her moans as Plague's mouth finds her throat. She tastes like honey and heat, like everything I've ever wanted but never thought I could have.
Her hands are everywhere, clutching at my shoulders, tangling in Plague's hair.
She's burning up beneath us, her skin flushed and damp with sweat.
Plague's hand slides down her body, finding the heat between her thighs.
She cries out at the contact, her hips bucking up into his touch. I can smell how wet she is, how ready.
"So slick," Plague murmurs, his clinical mask slipping to reveal the hunger underneath. "Your body knows what it needs."
"You," she pants. "I need you."
I help her out of the rest of her clothes while Plague strips off his turtleneck with jerky, desperate movements. The sight of the jagged scar over his heart makes my chest twist up. The one I noticed last night when we were tangled up with Ivy, flushed pink against his bronze skin.
Someone hurt him. Bad.
I want to ask who did it. Want to know if they're still breathing, because if they are, I'd like to fix that. But I can't. Plague would just shut down completely, get all emo and retreat so far behind his walls I'd never reach him again.
So I swallow the question and pretend I don't notice it.
I don't have time to psychoanalyze myself anyway because Ivy is pulling me down into a kiss, her mouth hot and demanding against mine. I lose myself in the taste of her mouth.
When we break apart, she's looking between me and Plague with dark, dilated eyes. "Who's first?" she asks, and the question sends a bolt of heat straight to my cock.
"Lady's choice," I say, trying to keep my voice light despite the way my heart is hammering.
She considers for a moment, then reaches for Plague. "You," she says simply.
Surprise flickers across his face. He moves over her with that careful grace of his, positioning himself between her thighs.
I watch as he lines himself up with her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick heat, his dark hair falling forward and brushing her shoulder where a mark used to be.
"Ready?" he asks, and she nods.
He pushes in slowly, carefully, and I watch her face as she takes him. The way her eyes flutter closed, the soft gasp that escapes her lips…
"Fuck," I breathe, my hand moving to my cock without conscious thought.
Plague starts to move, slow and deep, and Ivy's moans fill the air. She reaches for me, her hand wrapping around my length, and I have to bite back a groan at the contact.
"Don't come yet," she pants, her grip tightening. "Want you inside me too."
The promise in her words makes my vision blur. I watch as Plague fucks her with increasing desperation, his control finally cracking. His pale eyes are wild, his usually perfect hair a mess as his cock claims our omega.
When his knot starts to swell, Ivy cries out, her back arching off the bed. "Yes," she gasps. "Knot me. Please."
Plague's rhythm stutters, and then he's pressing deep, his knot locking them together as he comes with a broken snarl. Ivy follows him over the edge, her inner walls clenching around him as she sobs his name.
They stay locked together, breathing hard, and I stroke myself slowly as I watch them. The sight of Plague's knot buried inside her, the way she clings to him—it's enough to drive a man insane.
But I wait. Because this is about her, about what she needs.
When Plague's knot finally goes down, he pulls out carefully, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Okay?" he asks softly.
She nods, smiling up at him. "More than okay."
Then she's turning to me, her eyes bright with renewed hunger. "Your turn," she says, and I don't need to be told twice.
"Ready for me, sweetheart?" I ask, already positioning myself at her entrance.
"So ready," she breathes.
But as I start to push in, I realize the logistics are all wrong. If I try to take her like this, missionary style, I'm gonna crush her. She's so fucking tiny beneath me, and I'm built like a goddamn grizzly bear.
"Hold on," I murmur, pulling back. "Turn over for me, baby."
She looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns in her eyes. Without hesitation, she rolls onto her hands and knees, presenting herself to me. The sight of her like this—ass in the air, back arched, looking over her shoulder at me with those ocean eyes—nearly makes me come on the spot.