Page 324 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Would it kill them to at least put on some music?

I scoot the stool closer so my knee presses against the side of his thigh. His eyes close as I lift his hand and press his knuckles against my lips, holding them there, breathing warm air across the scars on his fingers.

They finally uncurl, one by one, loosening from the fist until his scarred hand is resting open against my mouth.

I kiss his palm.

His breathing deepens.

Please, I pray to any god that will listen, keeping my eyes shut tight and my lips pressed against his hand. Please don't let it be bad news.

Chapter 68

Wraith

It's going to be bad fucking news.

I know it is.

Because I can feel my heartbeat in my face.

Every pulse of blood through the damaged tissue sends heat straight through my jaw and up into my temple.

Even with the gaiter around my neck instead, just having it on for the past few hours has made everything hurt enough I almost wish I was dead.

If I'm dead, I won't be in pain anymore. That's true. Might even get a whole face when I'm a fucking ghost. Maybe. I don't know how that works.

Maybe I'd even look worse.

But if I'm dead, there's no Ivy.

And Ivy is stroking my knuckles through my glove and humming softly, her forehead resting against our joined hands, and the warmth of her breath is the only thing on my entire body that doesn't hurt.

So. Not dead, then.

Footsteps in the corridor make the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I already know who it is because I've heard her steady footsteps coming up the hall so many times before.

There's a gentle knock.

More of a tap, really.

The door opens and Dr. Jackson steps in. The knot tangling up my entire fucking ribcage loosens just enough that I can take in a full breath.

Because she's familiar, and she's always the same. Curly gray hair and lime green cat-eye glasses that match her shoes as always.

Her eyes find me first, then Ivy, and a smile breaks across her face. She doesn't react to mine being uncovered. Never has. Probably because she used to be a combat medic.

"Wraith," she says gently. "How are you doing?"

I manage a slight wave and tilt my hand back and forth. So-so.

She turns to Ivy. "And you must be Ivy." She extends her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ivy takes it, smiling too. "Margaret told you?"

Dr. Jackson laughs. "Oh, Margaret is over the moon. I've heard about nothing else since you came in. I'll have to stop her from throwing a party." She pulls the rolling chair from the opposite wall, settling into it next to me. "Tell me what's been happening."

My hands come up to sign. Worse. Getting worse since the fight at my last game. Can't wear a mask without⁠—