Page 48 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Unfortunately." Thane's jaw tightens. "They're all gonna be on the same plane, and Whiskey's losing his shit about it. Says, and I quote, 'If that knife-wielding psycho sits next to me, I'm jumping out the emergency exit.'"

I snort. "Pretty sure Plague would get the door for him."

A deep growling sound comes from Wraith that might be laughter. Or rage. Hard to tell.

"They want you to know Valek made it very clear he thinks Wade is an asshole," Thane continues. "Apparently he said some choice things at dinner last night."

That makes me sit up straighter. "What kind of things?"

"Not sure, but Plague seems to think Valek isn't immediately dangerous, at least," Thane explains, averting his gaze like he can't look me in the eyes. "And… he knows we're hiding you in the loft."

Oh.

"Does he know who I am?" I ask carefully.

Thane shrugs. "Not sure. Plague and Whiskey both seem to think he knows more than he's letting on. He might have been going out of his way to say he hates Wade to signal he isn't a threat to you."

"Or he is a threat, and he wants us to think he isn't," I mutter.

Thane nods stiffly. "Yeah, that's… fair."

Wraith's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. His blue eyes meet mine above the mask.

"I'm okay," I promise him. "I can handle it. You've got a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, right?"

"We do," Thane says, grinning. "A big one."

Wraith huffs. This time, it's definitely a laugh.

The windows shake with a loud rumble of thunder outside, and the rain starts coming down in full-blown sheets. I love a good storm, so I don't mind.

Especially not in bed with these two.

"Guess we're staying in today. Even the fire escape's gonna be soaked," Thane observes, standing and stretching. Every muscle in his back and shoulders pulls taut under his skin, and I catch myself staring before forcing my eyes away.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl.

Loudly.

Both alphas look at me.

"Breakfast?" I suggest, clearing my throat and hugging a pillow to stifle any more starved sounds. It's not like we had dinner last night in the tent. "I could cook. If you have food."

Wraith's eyes crinkle above his mask, his version of a smile that's just as real as if he were capable of smiling with his mouth. I fully understand now why his eyes are so expressive. They have to be.

He signs something to Thane.

"He says the kitchenette is all yours," Thane translates.

The kitchenette is tucked in the corner of the loft, barely more than a cooking surface on the counter, the mini fridge, and some counter space. But it's clean and functional, and it feels cozy, staying in the loft like this instead of going outside and getting soaked on our way into the main part of the pack house. The ceiling is still sealed, although if Valek knows I'm up here, all the work they put into that is probably completely fucking pointless.

Not to mention a false sense of security.

I pull open the fridge, expecting the bachelor alpha basics. Beer. Leftover takeout. Maybe some questionable lunch meat.

Instead, I find vegetables. A lot of vegetables, and they're fresh, too. Eggs. Milk. Some kind of fancy-looking mushrooms. Tofu. Cheese. Enough protein shakes to power an entire hockey team for a week.

"Wait." I turn to look at Wraith, who's hovering nearby with Thane. "You don't eat meat?"