Page 147 of Psycho Pack

I glance around, waiting for someone else to take the first bite. Whiskey, predictably, dives right in with enthusiasm, shoveling food into his mouth like he's afraid it's going to disappear.

"Holy fuck," he moans around a mouthful of meat.

"Shhh," Plague whispers to him. "Have some manners."

"You're the one who dropped the f-bomb first," Whiskey says with a snort, chasing the food down with a long swig of sparkling violet wine. "That's some good sh—stuff."

But Wraith hasn't moved.

His massive frame is rigid in the chair beside me, tension radiating off him in waves. The white scarf covering the lower half of his face remains firmly in place, a stark contrast to the others who have removed theirs.

He must be starving.

But he doesn't want to take his scarf off.

Across the table, I notice Plague watching us with concern. He catches my eye and tilts his head slightly toward Wraith, a silent question.

I give a small shake of my head.

We can't push him.

The queen's melodic voice cuts through the quiet clinking of silverware. "Is everything to your liking?" she asks, her eyes sweeping over all of us before landing on Wraith. A small frown creases her brow as she notices his untouched plate.

"It's delicious, Your Majesty," Thane says smoothly, clearly trying to draw attention away from Wraith. "We're honored by your hospitality."

But the queen isn't so easily distracted. "You're not eating, my dear," she says to Wraith, her tone gentle but curious. "Is the food not to your taste? We can have the kitchen prepare something else if you prefer."

Wraith goes very still beside me. I can feel the tremor running through his body, the way his muscles coil like he's ready to bolt at any second. His breathing quickens, chest rising and falling in sharp, rapid bursts.

"He, uh... he's not feeling well," I lie quickly, hating myself for it but knowing it's necessary. "We've been through a lot. Can we have a minute?"

The queen's eyes narrow slightly, and I know she doesn't believe me. But before she can press further, Plague speaks up.

"You may go," he says, his voice carrying that careful neutrality I've come to recognize as a mask for deeper emotions.

I give Plague a grateful smile before quickly standing up. Maybe a little too quickly considering it's a royal dinner, but that's the furthest thing from my mind right now. Wraith follows, nearly knocking over the table in his rush to get away.

My heart races, too, as I grab Wraith's massive hand and pull him into the empty corridor, away from the oppressive weight of all those eyes. His hand engulfs mine, trembling slightly despite his iron grip.

"It's okay," I murmur as we move further down the corridor, though I'm not sure if I'm trying to reassure him or myself. "We're away from everyone now. You can breathe."

And so can I.

Holy shit, this dinner is… a lot.

He doesn't respond, but his chest heaves as he gulps in air like he's been drowning. I hate seeing him like this. My fierce,protective alpha reduced to a panicked animal by something as simple as a formal dinner. But I understand. After everything he's been through, after years of isolating himself, being thrust into the spotlight like this must be excruciating.

We round a corner and I spot an alcove tucked away behind a gauzy curtain. Perfect. I tug gently on Wraith's hand, guiding him into the small space. It's a tight fit with his bulk, but that seems to help. The close quarters ground him, give him something solid to lean against as he struggles to regain control.

I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. His skin is feverishly hot beneath my palms, a stark contrast to the cool silk of his scarf.

"Look at me," I say softly. "Focus on me. Nothing else matters right now, okay? Just us."

Slowly, his wild gaze locks onto mine. I can see him fighting to center himself, to push back the panic threatening to consume him. He wins that fight, his shoulders slumping slightly before he leans forward with a soft growl and presses his forehead against mine, his eyes fluttering shut.

My brave, broken alpha.

"That's it," I encourage. "You're doing so well. Just breathe with me, okay?"