Valek
The pack house lights are on when we make it home.
All of them.
"Oh no," Ivy croaks.
I look at the house, then at her.
"They were supposed to be asleep," she says.
"They were never going to be asleep, Ivy. They’re alphas."
She groans, but I know she was well aware they weren't going to be asleep. Through the bond, I can somehow feel her hoping, faintly, irrationally, that they'd at least be pretending when we got back.
The front door opens before we even reach the porch.
Thane fills the doorframe, shaggy hair messy, dark circles under his dark eyes, still in the same henley from yesterday.
A massive shadow looms behind him just out of sight, watching Ivy from the darkness of the pack house. He won't step outside without his mask, even at this hour, with no one else around.
Thane’s eyes move slowly over the visible damage. The scratches. The mud caked in Ivy's hair. Blood and dirt under her nails. The scrapes on her palms from grabbing at rough bark. The bruises on her wrists from being gripped by my hand, which his eyes linger on for a few extra seconds.
And then there's me, looking like I fought a feral omega in the woods.
"What happened?"
"Valek chased me through the woods," Ivy says cheerfully.
Thane stares at her.
"And then we fell in a river."
He transfers the stare to me.
"It was a very nice river," I offer.
Wraith suddenly pushes past Thane before either of us can say anything else, surprising me. I didn't think he would leave the house bare-faced. But he pulls the hood of his black sweatshirt up as he steps into the porch light.
His huge scarred hands find her face first, tilting it left, then right, checking over every scratch. His blue eyes are blazing but not feral. He’s just worried, like he always is when she's been out of his sight for more than five minutes and comes back with so much as a paper cut.
"I'm fine," she tells him, catching his wrists. "I promise. Look at me. All limbs accounted for."
He doesn't look convinced. His hands come up anyway, bringing hers with them because an omega has the strength of a mosquito compared to an alpha like him, and his thumbs brush lightly over the light scrapes on her face.
His eyes flick to the edge of the fresh mark peeking out of the collar of her shirt, and his gaze sticks there for a moment as his hands drift down to her wrists.
To the bruises my grip left.
A growl starts low in his chest.
"Those are the good kind," she says quickly.
The growl stutters.
I clear my throat. "She won, for the record."
Wraith's blue eyes flick over her shoulder to me, then back to her. His brow furrows.
She grins up at him. "I really did."
He huffs through his nose, the crease between his brows softening. His scarred hand cups the back of her skull and he pulls her against his chest, stooping to tuck her head under his chin.
"Come on," she says, muffled against his shirt. "Loft. All of us. I'm freezing and exhausted and I want my nest."
Wraith scoops her into his arms and bridal-carries her through the door. She twists just in time to grab my wrist. I hesitate, but I'm fairly certain she would dislocate her entire arm rather than let go of me right now.
I follow.
Thane locks the door behind us.
Whiskey is already waiting in the living room. Shirtless, of course, both massive arms crossed over his broad chest, chin dipped, honey-brown eyes tracking every inch of her as Wraith carries her through the doorway.
Plague is seated on the arm of the couch with his book still open, but his eyes are locked on her. He looks cool and composed and deeply unimpressed with everything, which means he's been worried out of his mind for the last few hours.
Wraith barely makes it into the living room before Whiskey moves.
"Hold on," Whiskey says, stepping into Wraith's path with one hand raised. "Put her down."
Wraith’s growl kicks up again as he shifts his grip and turns his shoulder slightly, angling her away from Whiskey's outstretched hand.
"Wraith," Whiskey says.
A low rumble.
"Buddy."
The rumble deepens.
“Bro. I just want to look at her," Whiskey says, dropping his voice. "C'mon. Two seconds."
Wraith holds out for another moment before he sighs through his nose and sets her on her feet, keeping both hands loosely around her waist like he’s going to snatch her back if Whiskey takes longer than the promised two seconds.
“Time’s ticking,” Ivy says, grinning.
Whiskey crouches with his hands on his knees in front of her immediately. His warm eyes make a careful sweep over her face as his thumb comes up and brushes off some dried mud on her chin, surprisingly gentle.
I didn't know the bull-in-alpha-form could be gentle.
Then he rotates her wrists, inspecting the bruises, and his jaw goes rock hard.
"Good kind," she tells him quickly, the same thing she told Wraith. "I promise."
Plague appears at her other side like smoke, silent and cool. He takes her chin lightly between two fingers and tips her face left, then right.
“What do you think, doc?” Whiskey asks dryly, straightening to his full height. “Anything broken?”
“She’s fine,” Plague sighs, rolling his eyes at the nickname and releasing Ivy with a soft kiss to her forehead. He gives me a quick once-over. "Are you?"
"Debatable," I reply with a shrug.
Plague's eyes lock on the bite mark Ivy left on me. I adjust the collar of my shirt with a quick tug, but it's too late. All eyes are on it now.
"Bro, is that a mark on you?" Whiskey sputters. "She bit you?"
"You know," Ivy interrupts, "if you’re jealous, you could always chase me through the woods yourselves and see if you can catch me."
"I’m not jealous, I just—"
"Come to bed," she says, cutting off whatever is about to become a ten-minute argument, and she catches Whiskey's hand and tugs. He follows, scowling past her at me with the competitive energy of an overgrown golden retriever. One who has just spotted another dog sitting in his favorite spot.
I flash a grin at him.
We all follow her up into the loft, or rather, the others do.
Her feral shadow first, of course, then Thane.
Plague and Whiskey argue at the bottom because Whiskey doesn't trust Plague near his ass. Plague goes up first, warily, sideways, and Whiskey still manages to spank him.
Plague kicks out so fast at Whiskey's head he nearly falls off the ladder.
I wait patiently until the ladder is clear and the familiar sounds of Whiskey and Plague chewing each other out disappears into the loft before climbing up after them, pausing halfway up the ladder to look warily into the nest.
Ivy crawls into the center of the nest with happy little omega sounds as the other four alphas settle around her.
Wraith folds himself down behind her and she leans into him immediately, his massive arm curling around her waist. Thane takes Wraith's other side, dropping onto his back with a long, tired groan of a sigh and flopping an arm over Wraith's hip.
Whiskey drops beside Plague, squeezing him in a bear hug from behind, and Plague struggles briefly before accepting his fate and going limp so Whiskey can arrange him like a human body pillow with zero regard for his bones.
Adorable, really.
A puppy pile of alphas.
I'm still lingering at the top of the ladder, half in the loft, half out.
I don't know what I'm waiting for. Permission, maybe. Or an objection from one or more of the other alphas that doesn't seem to be coming.
Ivy pats the space beside her, smiling.
I press my lips together.
She pats it again.
I told her everything. The worst of it.
All of it.
And somehow, this impossible creature still wants me.
I don't understand her at all.
I cross the loft and lower myself carefully into the nest, keeping my back against the wall, my long legs stretched out. I'm close, within reach, but far enough I feel safe.
She reaches back and drags Wraith's arm tighter around her waist, then reaches forward and takes my hand. She gives it a light, experimental tug.
I'm not ready yet.
Wraith shifts behind her, propping himself up on one elbow. His scarred hands sign to me over her shoulder.
Sleep with us. For her.
I watch him.
And for a moment, I'm seeing a ghost.
A silent, gentle alpha with no face, cradling broken little creatures in hands that could crush them without even trying.
My eyes slide to Ivy's, and she tilts her head and whispers the magic word that apparently works on every alpha in the pack house.
"Please?"
Wraith huffs a soft laugh. He knows exactly what she's up to.
I narrow my eyes at her in a glare, but I don't mean it. I just want her to know I'm aware she's casting omega spells on me.
She grins, sweetly.
I flick my damp hair back from my face and sigh, taking my time slipping properly into the nest.
I stretch out on my side in front of her, my arm wrapping around her waist and resting over Wraith’s until she's sandwiched between us, her chest against mine, Wraith's at her back.
She starts to purr. Easily, like it's nothing to her now, and within minutes, everyone in the nest is fighting to stay awake, their eyes closing as alpha purrs join hers one by one. Whiskey’s is more like a chainsaw. I wouldn't call it a purr.
Ivy presses closer, tucking her face against my chest, and I'm suddenly almost too exhausted to pull my arm tighter around her. I manage, somehow, letting my eyes drift shut, my face buried in her hair.
And then…
I feel it.
A vibration in my own chest, so quiet I almost don't realize it's mine as I float in that strange half-awake space. A soft, fractured sound, barely there, embarrassingly careful.
I've never purred.
I didn't know I could.