Page 227 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"And minutes. Or trying. But I didn't wanna seem desperate."

"Too late."

He huffs a laugh, but it fades faster than usual. I feel the exact moment the question shifts from playful to real.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Always."

"How come me and Plague are together?"

He says it like it's nothing. Tosses it out between us like a crumpled napkin. But his eyes drift to the treeline instead of my face, and his thumb stops moving.

"Thane got his own thing," he continues, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "His date, his moment, you and him in the truck. Which is awesome. I'm stoked for him. Genuinely." He clears his throat. "But me and Plague are sharing, so I was just—I mean, is that a⁠—"

"Whiskey."

"It's not a big deal…"

I take his jaw and turn his face back to mine. He resists for half a second, which is how I know it actually is a big deal.

"You think I put you together because you're not enough on your own," I say.

He flinches. Barely. If I wasn't sitting on his lap, I'd have missed it entirely.

"I said it's not a big⁠—"

"You're wrong."

He shuts up.

I hold his gaze. "I want you and Plague together because the three of us together is its own thing. Something I don't get with anyone else."

And you're in love with each other, too, I add mentally, but that's an inside thought I keep to myself. Because he would just deny it and probably light all the fireworks at once as a distraction, and that might not be survivable.

His throat bobs.

"Okay," he says roughly. Then, because he's Whiskey and can't leave anything alone for more than four seconds, "So it's like a… a sexy group project. And I'm the hot one who does all the work."

"Sure. Let's go with that."

He grins, but it's wobbly. His hand comes up to cover mine where it rests on his cheek, and he holds it there for a beat longer than he needs to.

"And then Valek, then Wraith once your skin can take it?" he asks. "Same plan?"

It's funny. As nervous as Wraith is, Valek is the one I feel like I'm going to have to fight to get him to mark me. Maybe literally, knowing him.

"Same plan," I confirm.

"Good." He nods once, firmly, like he's locking it in. "Twenty-seven hours, wildcat. I can do twenty-seven hours. I was a goddamn Marine."

"You sure?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

He presses his finger to my lips. "Sure as hell, wildcat."

I bite his finger.

"OW! What is it with you and biting?!"