Page 183 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Fair," Ivy admits. "We've been a lot lately."

A lot is an understatement.

Ivy's fingers slide from my temples to the bridge of my nose, pressing gently on either side. My eyes flutter shut automatically.

The migraine doesn't disappear. It's still there, pulsing dully behind my left eye. But the edges soften and the ice pick sensation fades to a manageable level.

Wraith's purr has joined Ivy's now, a deeper rumble that I feel through the mattress more than hear. The two of them are vibrating against me like a pair of idling engines, and somewhere in the cocoon of warmth and pressure and Ivy's clever fingers working the tension out of my skull, my body starts to genuinely consider the possibility of sleep.

Then Ivy's fingers slow.

Drift.

One thumb traces along my hairline, then down the side of my face, following the line of my jaw. Slower than a massage.

I crack one eye open.

She's looking at me with a different expression now. The laughter's gone soft and warm and turned into something else, her blue-green eyes half-lidded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"You know," she murmurs, her voice dropping into a husky register that has my alpha instincts overpowering what's left of the migraine, "everyone else is busy tonight."

"Mm."

Her fingers slide down my throat. "And you're already in bed."

"I am."

"And I'm already in your bed."

“Ivy…”

"What?" Her hand splays flat over my sternum, over my hammering heart, and she shifts her weight so she's draped more fully across me. Her hip presses against mine. Her hair spills across my collarbone. "I'm just saying. It would be very convenient."

There's a beautiful omega sprawled across my chest, scent-matched and warm and looking at me like she'd let me do absolutely anything I wanted, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to flip her onto her back and⁠—

And my head throbs once, hard, behind my left eye.

And my body, the traitor, just sinks deeper into the mattress.

"I would fucking love to," I say, and I hear how slow my own voice has gone. Thick and half-asleep already. "I really would."

Her mouth curves. "But?"

"But if I tried anything right now, I'd fall asleep halfway through and you'd never let me live it down."

She laughs. "That's fair."

"It's deeply unfair, actually." I cover my eyes with my forearm. "I'm running on fumes and one ibuprofen."

"You should've taken more than one." She pokes my ribs. "That's why you were lying here at midnight in a blue gel ghost mask, suffering in silence like a martyr."

Behind her, Wraith makes a sound that's unmistakably a laugh.

"You're supposed to be on my side," I tell him.

He signs something over Ivy's shoulder. Never.

Great.