Page 338 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

Chop more wood.

Apparently chop down the entire fucking forest.

Another log cracks apart.

Rainwater shines across Wraith’s bare shoulders and runs in thin trails down his back. His hoodie hangs from a line near the fire, dripping steadily beside Valek’s destroyed leather jacket and my coat. We got halfway through pitching the tent before the sky opened, soaking all three of us in under a minute.

Wraith stripped off his hoodie when it started clinging to his chest.

I haven’t recovered.

He’s fucking enormous. I know this. I’ve seen him naked. I’ve climbed him like a tree, slept on him, been pinned beneath all that scarred muscle.

Doesn’t matter.

Watching him work is different.

His shoulders bunch as he lifts the axe again, massive deltoids rolling beneath rain-slick skin. Thick cords of muscle run down either side of his spine, narrowing into a hard waist above his pants soaked enough with rain to hang low on his hips. Every swing pulls his muscles tight enough to show the ridged definition beneath the web of scars spreading over his collarbones and chest.

I force myself to stop staring and look down at the river instead, dragging my bare toes through the icy current. I stripped because everything I own is wet anyway, and the river is cleaner than I am after walking through all the mud.

This technically counts as bathing. A very cold, lazy bath where I sit on a smooth boulder and let the water numb me from the knees down while two shirtless alphas wander around the campsite.

Life is fucking weird.

Valek steps around the boulder and into view with two fat trout hanging from one hand. Scratches and fresh bruises cover his pale torso, including a darkening mark beneath his ribs where Wraith hit him.

His silver eyes travel down me slowly.

“Enjoying the view?” I ask him innocently.

“Immensely.”

Wraith’s axe hits the stump with a violent thwap.

Valek glances over, and Wraith straightens, staring at him. He's still just feral enough to be unnecessarily protective of me, and his bright blue eyes narrow beneath wet strands of dark hair. His exposed teeth remain fixed in their permanent skeletal grin, but the muscles along his ruined jaw tighten.

Valek lifts the fish slightly.

"Dinner. I know you won't eat it."

Wraith looks at the trout.

Then at Valek.

Then back at me.

I trail one foot through the water, deliberately extending my leg. "Nice fish," I say to Valek.

Valek’s gaze drops to my leg.

“Thank you.”

Wraith growls.

I laugh and splash water at both of them. Wraith is too far away to hit. Valek isn’t, but the spray only reaches his feet.

"Behave," I tell him.