23. Ivy #2
Wraith’s eyes search my face for a long moment, as if he’s still afraid I will, deep down. I’m sure we’re in a one-step-forward, one-million-steps-back situation when it comes to his self-loathing. This was already a day from hell for him, and it culminated in him going feral and savaging Wade.
He already sees himself as a monster. This is all going to reinforce that in his mind. I know it is.
I bend down and press a kiss to his bandaged cheek to remind him I disagree. Strongly.
“You were my hero today,” I whisper to him, caressing his jaw. “You know that, right?”
His jaw tightens beneath the bandages and disbelief flickers in his eyes. But he’s too worn out to argue this time. He's already curling into me, burying his bandaged face against my chest like he's trying to disappear into my ribs, his arm wrapping around my waist.
I settle beside him, my back against the couch, his head in my lap. It's not the most comfortable position, but when my fingers start carding through his hair again and he lets out a sound that's definitely his purr, suddenly, comfort doesn't seem that important.
Whiskey claims the space on Wraith's other side, sprawling dramatically across the blankets with his arms spread wide. Okay, with Whiskey stretching out across the nest, maybe it isn’t big enough for five alphas after all.
"This is nice," he announces to no one in particular.
"We should do sleepovers more often. I'll bring snacks next time.
Maybe a projector. We could watch movies on an even bigger screen—"
"Whiskey," Plague interrupts flatly. “We’re not making a new tradition out of sleeping on the floor.”
But he joins us.
“This is a democracy. And if we vote, you’ll be outnumbered,” Whiskey retorts, rolling over to face him and crushing his leg in the process.
Plague snarls in pain.
"Stop arguing," Thane groans, settling onto the outer edge of the nest with his back against the wall. "Some of us are trying to process the fact that we almost got arrested tonight."
"We didn't almost get arrested," Whiskey argues, completely oblivious to Plague swearing and yanking on his bent leg trapped beneath his bulk. "Valek almost got arrested. There's a difference."
I keep my fingers moving through Wraith's hair, but my heart rate kicks up a notch, and I'm suddenly very aware of what happened between Valek and me.
He kissed me.
Or I kissed him.
Or… we kissed each other.
Does it matter who started it when the result was the same?
He wanted me, and I wanted him back.
Light footsteps on the stairs make everyone tense up at once. Wraith's eyes snap open, and Thane straightens, ready to stand. Whiskey and Plague look up at the same time, Plague frozen with his leg still halfway trapped under the bigger alpha.
Valek steps down onto the landing.
He's changed into dark sweats and a plain white tank, his bone-white hair still damp from what must have been a quick shower. His silver eyes sweep the room, taking in the nest on the floor, the pack arranged around it, me with Wraith's head in my lap.
His gaze lands on mine and something warm and secret passes between us. A shared knowledge. A conspiracy of two.
I kissed you.
You kissed me back.
Now what?
He doesn't say anything. Neither do I.
But I give him a small nod.
An invitation.
Valek descends the rest of the stairs slowly, like he's giving everyone time to object. No one does. Although Whiskey's eyes narrow and Thane's jaw tightens.
He doesn't join the nest.
Instead, he settles against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his shoulders pressed against the drywall. Close enough to be present. Far enough to maintain distance.
Not quite part of the pack.
Not retreating either.
Wraith’s eyes crack open again and he lets out a low, wary rumble.
Not a purr this time.
This is a growl that says, I don’t know what to think after what happened today and I’ll accept you for now, but if you fuck up, I’ll tear you limb from limb.
Since everyone's tense already, I decide to ask the question that's been nagging the back of my mind. I'm assuming Thane knows, but he hasn't told me anything. Which I appreciate.
"Is Wade alive?"
Not because I give a shit about him.
But I just… need to know.
All eyes are on me now, including Valek's.
"Yes," Thane answers. "He's in stable condition." He pauses, his eyes flicking to Valek. "The knee injury is career-ending. He'll never play hockey again."
I wait for something resembling a shred of sympathy for the alpha I once thought was my mate.
It feels like I'm supposed to. I'm an omega. Sympathy and empathy—too much of it, at times—is kind of our thing.
But there's… none.
Just a weird sense of poetic justice.
Huh.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Valek's mouth curving. Just slightly.
I turn to look at him fully and raise my eyebrow. The beginning of his usual grin flattens into a line so fast I almost think I imagined it.
But the unnerving realization that Wade is at the local hospital and might be in town while he recovers comes next and drives out every last bit of satisfaction that was just starting to take hold.
"Well," Whiskey says after a long moment, sitting up with a chuckle, totally oblivious to Plague finally succeeding in yanking his leg out from under him with another string of curses. "This isn't fucking weird at all. Guess we're all one big happy family now huh?"
"Shut up, Whiskey," Plague growls, rubbing the life back into his leg.
"Damn, you're grumpy tonight. Here, have a shark," Whiskey says, flinging a giant IKEA shark at Plague. It slams into him hard enough to make his hair whip around.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Plague hisses, the seams of the shark straining under his wrenching grip like he's thinking about twisting Whiskey's head off his shoulders instead.
"Stop fighting," Thane says tiredly, leaning back in the makeshift nest. He's doing that thing where he raises his eyebrows and blinks hard to force himself to stay awake like when we watch a movie too late.
Thane is not a night owl like his brother.
I manage a laugh. Wraith's broken purr intensifies at the sound and I smile down at him, threading my fingers through his dark hair.
The tension doesn't fully dissipate, but it... settles.
Sort of. I guess.
Plague—who still has the shark for some reason—shifts closer to me, positioning himself within arm's reach of where I'm sitting. He doesn't say anything, doesn't acknowledge the movement, but I feel the intention behind it even as he and Whiskey keep bickering at a harsh whisper.
I'm here. If you need me.
Thane keeps trying to stay awake, but fails, slumping into the pillows with a soft snore, his shaggy hair spilling out like a lion's mane. But his breathing is shallow and I know he'll wake up the moment he senses anything's off. Always in protector mode, even in sleep.
And Wraith’s eyes are still locked on Valek.
I keep my hands in Wraith's hair, scratching his scalp lightly until the low growl rumbling in his chest fades into a purr again. I sink deeper into the nest with my exhausted alphas, letting their warmth and the way they automatically snuggle closer quiet my mind.
Five alphas in one room, arranged around me like satellites orbiting a planet.
The one on the outside just kissed me.
The four in the nest don't know.
Shit just got a hell of a lot more complicated.