Take care of her.
Always,I sign back, meaning it.
He turns to Ivy, and for a moment they just look at each other. Then she's up on her knees on the bed, reaching for him. He bends down—way down—and she presses her forehead to his, her hands framing his masked face with a tenderness that makes my chest tight.
"Come back soon, okay?" she whispers.
He nods against her, pulls back slowly like it physically hurts to create distance between them, and then he's gone. The door clicks shut with a finality that seems to echo in the suddenly too-quiet room.
Ivy sits back on her heels, staring at the door. "He's not okay."
"No," I admit, shifting closer to her on the bed. "He's not."
She turns to me, and the determination in her eyes is fucking glorious. "Tell me. Everything you can. Everything he'll let you tell me. What's wrong with his mom? Why does he hate the clinic? What happened to him?"
"That's... complicated," I say again, just like the last time she asked. My favorite word, apparently.
"I've got time." She settles back against the headboard, pulling blankets around herself in a way that's part nesting instinct, part armor. "And you need to tell me, because I can't help if I don't understand."
The thing is, she's right. And maybe she's exactly what Wraith needs. Someone who won't let him disappear into his own darkness without a fight.
"He was attacked by his stepfather. With acid. And his mother couldn’t accept that it happened," I start, settling next to her. Our thighs touch through the blankets, and her lingering heat scent still makes my mouth water despite the subject at hand, but I swallow it down even though it feels like swallowing a mouthful of rocks. "She’s unwell. Mentally, I mean, so she lives at a memory care facility. She doesn’t remember Wraith is her son. When she does see him, she thinks he's..."
"A demon," Ivy finishes quietly. "You mentioned that."
"Yeah. She thinks… well, she thinks her son is dead. And she thinks Wraith is a demon pretending to be her son," I explain, my chest clenching at the genuine pain and compassion in Ivy's softening gaze. "She's the one who called him that first.Wraith.So… he changed his name. Won't go by his old name anymore. Says she's right and he died. It destroys him every time. Watching her look at him like he's some nightmare come to life, even with the mask on, when all he wants is five minutes where she remembers loving him."
"Oh, God," Ivy says softly, almost whispering.
I know Wraith doesn't mind, even wants me to, but I'm starting to get that prickling sensation that the rest of this part of his story isn't mine to tell. So I stop there, taking a deep breath and dragging my hand back through my hair.
"He goes to a clinic near Cedarbrook once or twice a year," I explain, changing the subject. "Sometimes the scars get tight and they need additional treatment. Usually injections. I think it's just a check this time, but I don't know. He's… private. He never tells me what's going on."
Because you screamed like a fucking banshee the last time you saw his face when you were a dumbass kid,I scold myself internally.
I can see her processing all this, those ocean eyes darkening with something that looks like determination mixed with grief. Her fingers tighten on my thigh, not sexual, just... grounding. Like she needs the anchor.
So do I.
"Fuck," she whispers finally, and the word carries more weight than any elaborate response could.
"Yeah." I lean back against the headboard, suddenly exhausted despite the early hour.
Ivy's quiet for a long time, her hand still on my leg. The dusty morning light beams filtering through the curtains highlight the green and blue in her gaze. Even worried and processing heavy shit, she's fucking beautiful.
"I think I know how to help," she says suddenly, her voice soft but certain.
I turn to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"
She shifts, turning to face me properly, and there's something in her expression that makes my pulse kick up. Not fear or concern anymore, but something else. Something that makes her honeysuckle scent spike just slightly, sweeter than it's been all morning.
"My heat's over, but it's still... lingering. Just at the edges. And I think…" She pauses, chewing her bottom lip in that way that makes me want to lean over and?—
Focus, asshole.
"I think being with both of you tonight would help," she continues. "Ground him after everything. That's what an omega does for an alpha." Her cheeks flush slightly, but she holds my gaze. "And I want it, too. I want both of you."
My mouth goes dry. The image that flashes through my mind—Ivy between us, taking us both, claimed by her pack—makes my cock twitch in my pants.
