Whiskey #2
"She eats about once every two to four weeks," I continue, settling into the other chair uninvited.
It creaks under me and she perks up like she's pumped at the prospect of taking another jab at my size I won't give a shit about.
"Houseflies, mostly. Little gnats. Don't feed her cheeseburgers or pizza or anything. She's got a delicate digestive system."
"I didn't ask you to sit down," she says.
"Yeah, I know."
She glares at me.
I grin at her.
She glares harder.
I keep grinning.
"You're an idiot," she announces.
"I've been told."
"A loud, stupid, fat cow of an alpha."
"Wow, that's hurtful. Anyway. Aren't the males called bulls, ma'am?"
She looks like she wants to throttle me, but her eyes slide back to the venus flytrap, then back at me.
"Wraith didn't send this," she says.
"Nope. That one's from me. Your son would never get you something with teeth."
"He's not my son," she mutters.
"Listen, Claire Bear. I know you hate anything imperfect, but, uh, yeah. He's your son. He doesn't deserve the shit you put him through. So the rest of the pack will be coming instead. Kinda sucks for you, though, because we're all imperfect. Well… except this one. She's pretty damn perfect."
I jerk my head toward Ivy, who's standing by the door with her arms crossed, watching me with a warning expression. But she's smiling a little, as nervous as she is.
"Oh! And Thane," I add. "Our pack leader. He's probably kinda perfect. Although he has bad hair, so you'd probably say he looks like a barbarian or somethin'."
"Hey," Ivy protests. "I love Thane's hair. It's just long."
"But it isn't Plague-long," I tell her. "He's gotta commit. In a month or two, it'll be Fabio hair, and it'll look sick. Right now, it's barbarian hair."
Claire's eyes narrow at me. "Barbarian," she repeats flatly, like she's gonna remember that insult later.
Sorry, Thane.
"Yep. But he'd still come see you. Every week, if that's what Wraith needs."
Her mouth presses into a thin, hard line at the name. "Don't say that in here."
"Wraith?"
She flinches.
"That's his name, ma'am. Cuz that's what you call him."
"That's what I called it," she hisses. "Because that's what it is. A demon that took my son's eyes and walking around pretending to be—"
"Yeah, no. We're not doin' that."
I lean forward in the creaking chair, elbows on my knees, and let the smile drop off my face.
She blinks at me.
"See, here's the thing, Miss Claire." I glance at Ivy, who's gone very still by the door, arms crossed tighter, staring at me. She promised Wraith she wouldn't tell his mother what I know she wants to tell her.
But I didn't promise shit.
"Ivy here can't say much," I tell Claire, jerking my thumb toward my mate.
"Because she promised your son she'd be nice to you, and she keeps her promises.
That's the kind of person she is. She could tell you exactly what she thinks about the shit you put him through, and trust me, ma'am, you do not want to be on the receiving end of that, but she won't. Because your son asked her not to. "
Claire's fingers dig into the armrests.
"Me?" I spread my hands. "All I said was I wouldn't do anything crazy."
"The venus flytrap is debatable," Ivy mutters under her breath.
She's grinning, though. I spot it before she schools her face back to behaving.
I turn back to Claire.
"So here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna come visit you.
Regularly. Bring you flowers he picks out, check on your room, make sure the staff's treatin' you right.
Because that's what he wants. He wants someone here lookin' out for you, even though you locked him in a basement and treated him like a monster. "
Her face goes white.
"Yeah." I nod. "I know about that."
"You don't know anything—"
"I know he was a little kid." My voice doesn't get louder.
If anything, it gets quieter, and I watch her shrink back an inch.
"I know his stepdad poured acid on his face.
I know you decided it was his fault even though nothing could ever be a kid's fault.
And I know he still drives hours to bring you purple flowers in the exact right shade because he remembers you like 'em. "
She's gripping the armrests so hard her knuckles are bloodless.
"He remembers all the good shit," I add. "He holds onto it and tries to remember that instead, even though you gave him almost nothing good to hold."
Her mouth opens.
"So when I'm here," I continue, settling back in the chair, "you can call me fat, stupid, loud, whatever you want. But you don't get to treat Wraith like that. He loves you and it hurts him."
Claire starts picking at one of the leaves of the venus flytrap, her jaw working.
"As for me, I genuinely don't care. I'm a Marine. I've been called worse. You should hear what military alphas come up with. So far, everything you've said to me has been stock shit. You got anything more creative?"
"Damn. I really hoped she'd come up with something fun for our little 'mortal enemies' thing we've got brewing, but she just went back to livestock again."
Ivy cracks up beside me as we cross the parking lot, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She's doing better than last time she visited Claire, I think.
Probably because I absorbed all the hits instead of her. Or Wraith. Or Valek.
I can take 'em no problem. I'll happily be the Claire Whisperer from here on out. Imagining how badly she must have hurt Wraith makes me wanna puke.
I swing a leg over Hogzilla and settle into the seat, turning the key. The engine catches and rumbles to life beneath me. Ivy climbs on behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, helmet already on, the pointy chin of the helmet pressing against my spine.
"You okay?" I ask over my shoulder.
"Yeah." Her arms squeeze me affectionately. "Thank you for doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Being you."
"Oh. Yeah. Can't really help that."
She bonks her helmet against my back affectionately.
The ride from the care facility to the campsite isn't too long, and I wish it would go on forever. The back roads are twisty and narrow, the pavement giving way to gravel, then dirt.
Ivy's grip tightens on the rougher terrain.
I slow down because she's precious cargo and I'm not a complete maniac, despite what Thane thinks, and also because the last time I hit a pothole with Ivy on the back, she squeezed my love handles so hard I saw God and not in the fun way.
The air gets colder as we gain elevation. Smells different up here where it's dark and foggy. Kinda like Wraith, actually.
Fitting. Because if everything goes right tonight—and it will, because I believe in him, and I believe in Ivy's plan—Wraith marks her.
The last bite.
The one that completes the pack bond and keeps us all safe and together and legal.
The campsite appears through a break in the trees. Wraith's SUV is parked at the edge of a small clearing beside a river I hear before I see. There's a tent already set up—a big one, the kind that could fit two normal people or one Wraith and a pint-sized omega—and a firepit ringed with rocks.
And enough chopped wood to build a second pack house.
Classic Wraith.