Page 455 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Wraith flips me off.

I give him a bow.

He turns toward the exit, takes two steps, then stops.

Before I can ask if something's wrong, he turns back and crosses the space between us.

His arms close around me without warning.

My arms stay suspended for a second, caught between instinct and surprise. Then I wrap them around his massive back, because I don't know what the fuck else to do about this.

He squeezes once.

Hard.

I choke.

When he releases me, he doesn’t look at me again. He grabs Ivy’s hand and heads for the door with his hood pulled forward, though it fails to conceal his reddened ears.

I watch him leave with our giggling mate.

I belong here.

The realization no longer terrifies me.

It only makes me look forward to getting home, taking a cat nap to regain my strength, and spending the entire weekend celebrating with our mate in the nest with every alpha willing and able to keep up.

Plague catches my sleeve when I make it outside after them, Whiskey's continued hysterical laughter bellowing out into the night.

“Val.”

I glance down at his hand. “Yes?”

“Come here for a minute.”

His tone pulls my attention away from the pack and our families gathering in the parking lot. I follow him around the back of the restaurant. The noise from the front fades, even Whiskey.

Plague stops beneath a security light.

I lean against the brick wall. “If you wanted another kiss, you could have asked in front of everyone. Your new mother already knows, brother.”

He gives me a flat look.

“Well,” he says, reaching inside his wool peacoat, “I wouldn’t complain, but that isn’t what I brought you back here for.”

He pulls out a manila envelope.

I stare at it, arching an eyebrow.

“An envelope?”

Plague sighs. “It’s important. I didn’t want it damaged.”

“Have you heard of phones?”

“Open it, Val.”

I take the envelope, sighing, and pop it open.