Page 86 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"I'm not afraid of him."

Whiskey sighs and steps aside, watching me.

The storage room is dark, lit only by the red emergency lighting.

And there, sitting against the corner, my alpha. His hands are buried in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. His shoulders shake with tremors and a constant panting growl rumbles in his chest.

My heart cracks down the middle.

"Wraith..."

His head snaps up. His eyes widen when he sees me, pupils shrinking to panicked pinpricks, but the growl dies immediately as his eyes fill with fresh terror. His hands fly into motion, signing frantically, none of it fingerspelled like usual.

I'm actually keeping up, thanks to all my hard work studying lately. But I still don't pick up everything. His hands are shaking so badly, he keeps having to restart.

What… doing… here…

Not… safe…

Alone…

Down… here…

"I wasn't alone," I say softly, approaching slowly. The way you approach a wounded animal. The way I need to be approached when the walls of my own head feel like a prison. "Valek found me. He walked me here."

He shakes his head violently, pressing himself further into the corner. His signs come faster, more desperate.

Can't touch⁠—

Will get on me⁠—

"What will? My scent?" I ask, confused. I didn't catch all that, either.

He nods.

He's worried about transferring my scent to him before the game. Even now, in the middle of a complete breakdown, he's trying to protect me.

I'm drowning in neutralizers. There's probably nothing left of me to transfer. But arguing with a spiraling feral alpha about scent chemistry isn't the hill I'm dying on today.

My eyes flick over the room and land on a wool moving blanket draped over one of the equipment cases.

I grab it, shaking the dust out.

"Okay," I say, moving closer. "Then we improvise."

I drape the blanket over his head and shoulders.

It's almost comical. The fabric that would wrap around a normal person twice barely covers anything except for his head and shoulders. He stares warily at me from beneath it.

"There," I say softly. "Barrier established."

Before he can stop me, I slide into his space, tucking myself against his blanketed chest, wrapping my arms around as much of him as I can reach. The fabric separates us, but I feel his body trembling with each ragged breath.

His arms come around me slowly, like he's afraid I'll disappear. Like he's afraid he'll break me. His masked face burrows into my neck through the blanket and I feel him inhale deeply, trying to catch my scent through the fabric.

But I'm covered in neutralizers, and his mask is still in place, and there's nothing for him to find.

A frustrated growl vibrates against my throat.