Page 331 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

A gust of wind pushes a crumpled receipt across the ground between us. It catches against his boot, then flutters free, and I watch it tumble off into the bushes. A bee dodges it and floats past.

Wraith's head lifts half an inch, blue eyes tracking the bee between his fingers.

"That woman was an asshole," I mutter.

His eyes slide to mine.

"She dropped her phone. Probably broke it."

His growl catches for half a second.

"I hope it broke," I add. "And I hope it's expensive as fuck to fix it."

His fingers loosen slightly.

The door around the corner opens and closes. Wraith stiffens again, but he doesn't bolt. His hands stay pressed over his face. The only sound is a sparrow chirping in a tree somewhere above us.

My phone buzzes in my pocket again, twice.

Wraith's head snaps up this time, his hands dropping just enough to bare his eyes. They blaze over my shoulder, and the growl in his throat changes from broken to dangerous in one hard beat.

I reach for him. "Hey, it's okay, it's just my phone…"

"Well. This looks terrible."

I turn so fast at the sound of the low, accented voice, I fall on my ass. My jeans immediately soak through.

Great.

Valek is standing at the corner of the building, his hands casually in the pockets of his leather jacket. His white hair falls forward over one eye, stirred by the wind, and his angular face is completely dead serious with no hint of the usual amusement.

"You came," I manage to croak.

Valek tilts his head. "Of course I came."

"But… how did you get here so fast? A fucking rocket ship?"

"No," he says, taking me completely literally. "I drove."

"You drove," I repeat. "What, a rental?"

"Not exactly." His lips do twitch at that. "I can be very persuasive, love."

Okay. I'm not going to ask any more questions.

He comes closer, but not directly toward Wraith. Instead, he takes the long route around me and stops beside the dumpster, keeping several feet of open space between himself and my feral mate.

Wraith's eyes follow every step between his fingers, the constant low rumble never breaking.

"Did the good doctor have bad news?" Valek asks in a soft voice without looking back at either of us. He grabs a forked stick and uses it to push the lid up, peeking inside like he sees something interesting buried in the trash.

I nod, swallowing hard. "He can't wear masks anymore."

Valek's eyes flick to Wraith's hands, still pressed over his face.

"Any medication?" he asks.

"Four injections for nerve pain. His doctor's starting paperwork for BioMuzzle, too. She said that could stabilize the feral regression."