Page 241 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

His expression doesn't change. If anything, it gets more controlled, which means the opposite of what he wants it to mean.

"Of course I'm ready," he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"I am."

"You sure?" I reach up and straighten a nonexistent wrinkle in his turtleneck. "Because your hands are shaking."

He shoves them into his coat pockets.

"I'm ready," he repeats, firmly. Like saying it with enough conviction will make the red creeping up from his turtleneck disappear.

It doesn't.

I stretch up on my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his mouth. "You're cute when you're nervous."

His ears flame red.

But he doesn't deny it this time.

Chapter 50

Plague

The hotel is just a twenty-minute drive from the restaurant. Glass and stone facade, valet parking, a lobby with a polished marble floor. A concierge who looks like he was born to play a butler in a silent film.

It may not be fireworks and grilled cheese sandwiches, but I do hope she feels spoiled regardless. I'm not going to mark my mate in the dirt.

Ivy's still in her date outfit, which is beautiful, of course—everything she wears is beautiful because she is beautiful, but this dress flares around her hips just right—but not warm enough for the planetarium. I mentioned this before we left, and she packed a bag we fetched from my trunk.

The plan is simple. Check in, let her change, put Whiskey's takeout in the suite's mini fridge so it doesn't congeal into something Whiskey would still eat but I would smack out of his hands, and then head to the planetarium.

Simple.

Bulletproof, even.

The elevator opens on the top floor and I lead Ivy down the carpeted hallway, black keycard in hand, listening to her happily narrating everything she's seeing and confirming that yes, I did see the unnecessary size and detail of the solid gold cock on the statue of the alpha in the lobby, and that yes, medically speaking, it is a very good thing no real alpha has a knot the size of a cantaloupe.

I tap the card.

The lock clicks green.

I push the door open and hear it before I see it.

A rustling sound and a creak of bedsprings.

I step in front of Ivy, arm out, blocking her from entering.

"Stay behind me," I say quietly.

"Plague, why⁠—"

"Stay."

I push the door wider.

The suite is dark, save for a single bedside lamp.