Page 199 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

He laughs at that, and this time, it's a bigger, full-bodied laugh. I'm laughing, too, and I'm also realizing I don't hear Thane laugh enough. He chuckles, snorts, and exhales in amusement. But genuine laughter is rare from the alpha who spends every waking minute holding the sky up so the rest of the pack doesn't get crushed.

I want to make him laugh more.

I want to make him do a lot of things more. Like let someone else carry the pack for five fucking minutes so he can relax for once.

The server clears our plates and Thane orders dessert without asking me, which ordinarily might annoy me, except that he tells me without being prompted that they only have one dessert here and it's chocolate torte. So we don’t exactly have any options to discuss.

The chocolate torte is so dense and rich, I would forgive him immediately anyway. Hell, he could kidnap me after this and I don't think I'd mind as long as I had the fucking torte stuffed in my mouth.

I tell him that, and he laughs again.

This time, his warm, calloused hand finds mine.

Just then, as if the universe itself is celebrating this peaceful moment between the Ghosts' pack alpha and me, the breeze catches the fairy lights and sends tiny spots of gold skittering and twinkling across the table between us, lighting up the little scars and marks across his knuckles.

And now I'm thinking about marks.

My fingers drift to my shoulder before I catch myself, to the smooth, slightly raised scar tissue beneath the thin strap of my dress. It's my mark now, and nobody else's.

My next mark will be the first page of something new.

And I know who I want it from.

"What are you thinking about?" Thane asks, his thumb following my own knuckles, bumping between them thoughtfully.

I already feel the blush crawling up my neck. "You."

He tilts his head. Kind of like Wraith does, I notice. They really are brothers. "What about me?" he asks.

"Just… how much I like you." I squeeze his hand and lean back in my chair, thinking about what I'm going to say next. I can't just hit him with fuck me and mark me as soon as we get home. He's kind of adorably bashful, actually. "And how I have plans for you tonight that involve a little more than a massage."

I grin at him again.

Now his whole face is on fire, not just his ears, and he pushes his hair back from his face and grins sheepishly back at me.

"The date's not over yet, Ivy."

I blink. "It's not?"

"Not even close."

His eyes hold mine across the candlelight, and as dark as they already are, they somehow darken further. My stomach swoops. He stands, still holding my hand, and drops enough cash on the table to buy a second dinner.

"Where are we going?" I ask, letting him pull me to my feet.

He leans down, his mouth close to my ear and his breath warm against my throat, stirring my hair enough to tickle my scar.

"Just trust me."

Chapter 42

Valek

The pack house is far too quiet without Ivy.

The soft padding of her bare feet, the hum she does when she's reading, the way she laughs at Whiskey's bullshit… all of it's absent, and I'm feeling it in spades.

"Dude." Whiskey's voice drifts from the living room. "You're gonna wear a groove in the floor."