Ivy
Midnight comes slow when you spend the whole day waiting for it.
I change three times. The first outfit is too nice, like I'm trying too hard, the second is too casual, like I'm not trying at all.
The third is just jeans and a thermal long-sleeve and my worn-in boots, which is what I would have worn first if I'd trusted my instincts and not spent two hours second-guessing myself.
The only reason the other alphas aren't up my ass right now is because I gave them all kisses goodnight and told them all to stay in the loft. They're pretending to be asleep while very clearly not sleeping. I can practically hear Whiskey holding his breath from the loft above me.
I tuck the flare gun into the inside pocket of my coat, button it shut, and heft the duffel bag I packed over my shoulder before grabbing my flashlight. It's a big, hefty flashlight over a foot long.
Perfect for another clobbering, if the need arises.
Which it won't.
I slip through the back door.
The night air that greets me bites at my face. I tug my coat tighter, adjust my scarf, and click the flashlight on, sweeping the beam across the back lawn.
The treeline is about fifty yards out. Past the garden beds Thane keeps meaning to clear before winter, and the rusted garden gate that swings and clicks in the wind.
So that's the noise that was driving me crazy last night.
I cross the lawn.
The gate hinges squeal under my hand and I wince, but Valek already knows exactly where I am. He knew the moment I stepped out of the house, probably. He's out there somewhere in the dark, and the fact that I can't see him despite knowing he's there is pretty fucking exciting, honestly.
The first few trees are the familiar chalky white birches, stretching up all around me like bony fingers that dug their way up from the ground. The path here is worn down by years of use, visible even in the dark, cutting uphill through bramble and scattered rock.
Wraith's familiar scent is everywhere here.
I couldn't feel unsafe even if I tried.
The house lights disappear sooner than I expect. One minute they're a warm glow at the edge of my peripheral vision, friendly and close, and then they're just… not there anymore. The trees swallow them entirely, and now there's nothing behind me but dark and the soft creak of branches.
My boots find the path by feel more than sight, the ground rising steadily beneath me, loose rock shifting under my heel whenever I step wrong.
The flashlight beam bobs with every stride, dragging shadows back and forth through the underbrush until the edges of my vision become a constant flutter of movement that I have to consciously tell myself to ignore.
Nothing. It's nothing.
Branches and shadows, like they always look at night.
Somewhere far off to my left, an owl calls.
I'm not scared.
I'm excited.
My boot scuffs against a root. I stumble, but I keep moving, swapping the heavy flashlight to my left hand to give my right hand a break.
I count my steps under my breath for a while. Focusing on the number keeps the full silence from pressing too close.
"Ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six…"
I've been out here maybe twenty minutes. Maybe a little more. The path has bent twice, following the ridge, and the slope under my feet has gotten steeper. My calves are starting to feel it.
The beam from my flashlight skims across a boulder up on the hillside the size of a car, half-buried in the hillside, and I use it as a landmark, picking my way up to it to get a better vantage point.
Valek still hasn't found me.
So I'm going to find him.
If I can keep track of this boulder, I'll know roughly where I am. I haven't gone so far that I can't find my way back, and the flare gun in my pocket would tell the pack exactly where I am if I actually do end up needing it.
It is getting colder.
And I'm starting to feel…
Watched.
A branch snaps behind me.
A fucking heavy branch giving way under considerable mass, and it comes from the path below me.
Close. Maybe thirty feet.
I spin around.
The flashlight swings down the slope, beam cutting wild arcs through the dark before I get it under control, and I press my back against the boulder and steady the heavy flashlight with both hands.
Grinning teeth shine back at me.
I jump back and my boot slips on the mud. I catch myself against the boulder, the flashlight flying out of my hand and clattering against the stones as I pitch sideways off the path into nothing.
I don't even have time to scream.
There's a rush of air, a massive displacement of the dark, something enormous moving fast.
Yep.
I'm going to fucking die.
Then whatever or whoever the fuck just grabbed me hits the ground, twisting mid-fall with his arms locked around me so that when we land it's his back that takes it, his shoulders absorbing the full impact with a sound that punches the air out of both of us.
We hit the slope hard and slide.
Several feet of loose ground rush up beneath us before we catch on gnarled tree roots, my duffel bag hitting my hip with a thump, and then we're still.
My face is pressed against a warm throat.
My knees are on either side of a torso so broad my thighs can barely span it.
My hands have found the fabric of a shirt and twisted it up in fistfuls.
A shirt that smells like dark mountain forest.
I push back to look and my heart starts pounding for an entirely different reason.
"Misha?"
His growl hitches.
The brightness in his eyes is feral-hot and he's vibrating everywhere our bodies touch. And we're touching everywhere. He's completely wrapped around me.
"I… I thought I told you to stay in the loft," I manage to croak.
He just stares at me, pupils pinpricks in the white beam from my flashlight.
The hysterical laughter that bubbles out of me is definitely not appropriate.
I know that. But I can't stop because it feels like my giant terrifying puppy followed me into the woods and I just reminded him I told him to stay.
Both hands are pressed over my mouth while my shoulders shake, and the sound that comes out through my fingers is kind of embarrassing.
The blazing eyes blink.
"Misha. Wraith." I get one hand free from my mouth and press it against his chest. "Hey. Hey. Look at me."
The growl shifts, softening slightly, and the too-bright gaze drags to my face.
I pry his huge scarred hands loose from the fabric of my jacket and press them flat against my sternum. My heartbeat is hammering. He'll feel it immediately.
"I'm right here," I say. "You followed me." I squeeze his hands tighter against my chest. "That's okay. You're okay. Feel that?"
His fingers spread against my sternum, feeling the thud of my pulse.
The growl continues, but the absolute rigid tension in the cables of his forearms softens the slightest amount.
I wait.
The blazing brightness in his eyes dims by degrees and his pupils expand slightly. His teeth part, then close again, and the recognition floods back into his face all at once.
He lets out an utterly distressed growl.
"Don't," I say before he can pull his hands away.
He goes still.
"Don't apologize to me right now. I'm serious.
" I adjust my position, still sitting squarely on him, and fix him with the flattest look I can manage while I'm still fighting leftover laughter.
"You saved me from eating dirt on that slope.
I was gone, Wraith. My heel went and I was about to somersault down a hillside. "
His eyes slide back to mine, uncertain.
"I would have fallen even if you hadn't popped up out of the shadows and scared the shit out of me," I promise him, even though I'm not actually sure about that. "So… thank you."
He breathes a nervous huff of air through his nose.
I settle more comfortably on his chest, pulling my knees tighter against his rock-hard abdomen, and he lets me arrange myself without fighting it. His hands drift up from where I pressed them to my sternum and settle at my hips instead, a gentle, present weight.
"You were never going to stay at the house," I tell him.
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.