9. Ivy
Ivy
Even with the rain hammering against the glass, the morning light manages to peek softly through the curtains covering Wraith's loft windows, muted and gray.
It doesn't matter how much rain there is when I'm cocooned between two massive alphas who've arranged themselves around me like living walls.
I'm so fucking warm.
I wish I could stay here forever.
But… my bladder has other ideas.
Carefully, I try to extract myself from the tangle of limbs. Wraith's arm tightens around my waist immediately, a low rumble vibrating through his chest.
"Bathroom," I whisper. "I'll be right back."
The growl softens, one eye cracking open slightly above the blanket he's mostly under. His arm loosens just enough for me to slip free.
When I pad back from the bathroom a few minutes later, both alphas are awake. Thane's propped up on one elbow, scrolling through his phone with his brow furrowed. Wraith sits at the edge of the bed now, and my stomach drops when I see it.
The mask is back on.
Shit. I was hoping he'd keep it off.
This mask looks brand new, too, the edges crisp and unworn, covering the scars and teeth I kissed last night. His hands are restless in his lap, like he rushed to get it on before I returned. Like daylight makes last night's vulnerability feel like too much.
He won't look at me.
My chest aches, but I don't make a big deal about it. Instead, I climb back into the nest and settle against his side. He lets out a soft, uneven rumble of a purr and bends to nuzzle into my hair, the tip of his nose gliding against my neck through his mask, right by my own scar.
"Plague and Whiskey finally managed to reach us," Thane announces, setting his phone aside on the bed. "They're catching a flight this morning. Should be back in a few hours."
"With Valek?" I ask warily, looking up.
"Unfortunately." Thane's jaw tightens. "They're all gonna be on the same plane, and Whiskey's losing his shit about it. Says, and I quote, 'If that knife-wielding psycho sits next to me, I'm jumping out the emergency exit.'"
I snort. "Pretty sure Plague would get the door for him."
A deep growling sound comes from Wraith that might be laughter. Or rage. Hard to tell.
"They want you to know Valek made it very clear he thinks Wade is an asshole," Thane continues. "Apparently he said some choice things at dinner last night."
That makes me sit up straighter. "What kind of things?"
"Not sure, but Plague seems to think Valek isn't immediately dangerous, at least," Thane explains, averting his gaze like he can't look me in the eyes. "And… he knows we're hiding you in the loft."
Oh.
"Does he know who I am?" I ask carefully.
Thane shrugs. "Not sure. Plague and Whiskey both seem to think he knows more than he's letting on. He might have been going out of his way to say he hates Wade to signal he isn't a threat to you."
"Or he is a threat, and he wants us to think he isn't," I mutter.
Thane nods stiffly. "Yeah, that's… fair."
Wraith's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. His blue eyes meet mine above the mask.
"I'm okay," I promise him. "I can handle it. You've got a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, right?"
"We do," Thane says, grinning. "A big one."
Wraith huffs. This time, it's definitely a laugh.
The windows shake with a loud rumble of thunder outside, and the rain starts coming down in full-blown sheets. I love a good storm, so I don't mind.
Especially not in bed with these two.
"Guess we're staying in today. Even the fire escape's gonna be soaked," Thane observes, standing and stretching. Every muscle in his back and shoulders pulls taut under his skin, and I catch myself staring before forcing my eyes away.
My stomach chooses that moment to growl.
Loudly.
Both alphas look at me.
"Breakfast?" I suggest, clearing my throat and hugging a pillow to stifle any more starved sounds. It's not like we had dinner last night in the tent. "I could cook. If you have food."
Wraith's eyes crinkle above his mask, his version of a smile that's just as real as if he were capable of smiling with his mouth. I fully understand now why his eyes are so expressive. They have to be.
He signs something to Thane.
"He says the kitchenette is all yours," Thane translates.
The kitchenette is tucked in the corner of the loft, barely more than a cooking surface on the counter, the mini fridge, and some counter space.
But it's clean and functional, and it feels cozy, staying in the loft like this instead of going outside and getting soaked on our way into the main part of the pack house.
The ceiling is still sealed, although if Valek knows I'm up here, all the work they put into that is probably completely fucking pointless.
Not to mention a false sense of security.
I pull open the fridge, expecting the bachelor alpha basics. Beer. Leftover takeout. Maybe some questionable lunch meat.
Instead, I find vegetables. A lot of vegetables, and they're fresh, too. Eggs. Milk. Some kind of fancy-looking mushrooms. Tofu. Cheese. Enough protein shakes to power an entire hockey team for a week.
"Wait." I turn to look at Wraith, who's hovering nearby with Thane. "You don't eat meat?"
He shrugs, and I swear what little I can see of his face between his choppy dark hair and his mask turns the slightest shade of red.
F-E-E-L… B-A-D, he signs.
"Feel bad?" I repeat. "For animals?"
He nods.
My fucking heart. "That's so sweet…"
He hesitates before signing more. A-N-D… G-R-E-W… U-P… E-A-T-I-N-G… L-O-T… O-F-… M-E-A-T. He stops and rubs at the back of his head awkwardly.
I blink at him, tilting my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Thane steps behind Wraith and out of his line of sight to shake his head frantically at me, making a sharp slashing motion across his throat.
The message is clear.
Don't ask.
My skin prickles with unease at the implication that it might have had something to do with his horrible upbringing. I know he was kept in a fucking basement and treated like a monster. It wouldn't be a stretch to think he was fed like one, too.
"Okay," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat and closing the fridge. "Veggie omelets it is. You guys allergic to anything?"
Both alphas shake their heads.
"Great. Wanna help?"
Wraith moves immediately, eager in a way that tugs at my heart. Thane follows with considerably less enthusiasm.
"I should warn you," Thane says, leaning against the counter. "I'm shit at cooking."
"How shit?"
"I once set a microwave on fire."
"That's... impressive, actually. How did you manage that?"
"Left a fork in a bowl of ramen. Didn't read the instructions." He grimaces. "Whiskey didn't let me hear the end of that one for months."
Wraith huffs that growling laugh of his, signing something that makes Thane scowl.
"He says I'm banned from the stove," Thane mutters. "Which is bullshit. It was one time."
Wraith holds up three fingers.
Thane sighs dramatically. "Okay, three times. But who's counting?"
Wraith points to himself.
I bite back a laugh and start pulling ingredients from the fridge. "Fine. Thane, you're on egg duty. Just crack them into this bowl and whisk. Think you can handle that?"
"I'm not that hopeless."
"Uh-huh." I hand him the whisk. "Wraith, can you chop vegetables?"
He nods, already reaching for the cutting board.
He starts slicing up the peppers and mushrooms. Not…
well, but it'll do. I turn to find Thane staring at the bowl like it personally offended him.
He's whisked so aggressively that egg is splattered across the counter, the walls, and somehow his bare chest.
"How?" I demand. "How did you get egg on the ceiling?"
"I don't know!" Thane looks genuinely distressed.
Wraith's shoulders shake with silent laughter.
"Okay, new plan." I take the whisk away from Thane before he can cause more damage. "You stand there and look pretty. Wraith and I will handle actual food prep."
"I can do more than stand here—"
"Can you?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Scowls. "Noted."
The rest of breakfast prep goes more smoothly once I ban Thane from touching anything. Wraith proves to be a surprisingly good kitchen partner, following my directions without question and somehow anticipating what I need before I ask for it. He seems to be enjoying every moment of this, too.
When the omelets are done, perfectly golden and stuffed with vegetables and cheese, we face a new problem.
Wraith still won't eat in front of us.
I can tell because he's gone still, his eyes darting warily between the plates of food and the bathroom door and the fire escape window, like he's trying to figure out how to politely disappear so he can eat alone in some dark corner.
Not happening.
Not if I can help it.
"Okay," I announce, grabbing a pillow from the nest. "New arrangement. We're eating over here." I march over to the couch and plop into the middle. "Wraith, you sit here." I pat the middle cushion. "I'll sit with my back to yours. Thane, you can sit in front of me."
"What's the pillow for?" Thane asks.
I hold it up with a grin. "Privacy wall."
Wraith stares at the pillow, his body completely still.
At first, he doesn’t move at all, and I wonder if I've overstepped.
But then I see his hands, clenched at his sides, slowly uncurl.
His shoulders, which are perpetually tense, drop a fraction of an inch.
It's a tiny shift, but on a man made of stone and pain, it’s an earthquake.
He moves to the couch and settles on the end so he's facing the wall.
He barely fits like this—he barely fits on the couch even when he's sitting normally—but he still manages to fold himself into the space.
I scoot closer to him until my back presses against his, which feels more like pressing my back against a brick wall, and I offer a soft purr to soothe his clearly frayed nerves.
He presses back against me with a rumble of his own.
"Perfect," I say, placing the pillow between the backs of our heads for extra coverage. "Now we can eat without anyone feeling watched."