Page 174 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

IVY

That picture is now my lockscreen

Goodnight boys

I toss the phone onto the blankets, fighting giggles.

When the containers are empty and stacked on the table, I lean back against his strong, warm body and let my eyes half-close. His arms wrap around my waist from behind, his hands resting on my stomach.

Then he shifts.

His arms loosen. He reaches around me, and I feel one finger tap my wrist.

I open my eyes, wondering if he's going to offer to do something about how much I'm squirming right now. Was it that obvious? Fuck, he's a feral alpha, he could probably catch the scent of my⁠—

Want to tell you something, he signs in front of me.

I twist sideways in his lap so I can look up at him. That wasn't what I was expecting, and I feel the familiar surge of nerves from being told something along the lines of we need to talk.

At least I'm not squirming anymore.

"Okay."

He pauses. His jaw works, the exposed muscles flexing in a way I've learned to read as hesitation. Gathering courage.

Something only you will ever have.

My heart does a slow, heavy thud.

"What is it?"

His hands move carefully.

Russian names have layers.

I wait.

The formal name. The one the world uses. And the diminutive. The one only the people closest to you ever say.

His eyes hold mine.

M-I-K-H-A-I-L is dead. I gave that name to the press because it already belonged to a ghost. Something to hand over before they could take it.

He pauses.

Wraith is who I am, now.

Another pause, longer this time.

But… there is one more.

I hold my breath.

I have never given it to anyone. Not even Thane.

He reaches for my hand.

I give it to him.