Page 288 of Psycho Pack
The familiar taste of him—clean and sharp, like mint and ozone—floods my senses. His gloved hands cup my face as he deepens the kiss, and I melt against him. When we finally breakapart, both breathless, I can see the effect my strengthening scent is having on him. His pupils are dilated, a faint flush visible on what I can see of his high cheekbones.
"Fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes," he murmurs as if they've been gone for weeks instead of hours, his voice rougher than usual.
I nuzzle into his palm, savoring the contact. “Welcome home.” I pause as something occurs to me, lowering my voice so I don't spoil the mood around the fire. "Any word from Azarel?"
Plague's gaze darkens and he shakes his head slightly. "No. And I imagine that's probably a good thing."
He's probably right. After what we saw in the Council chambers, I get the feeling that we won't have to guess when Azarel finally realizes whose care Cosima was temporarily transferred to. But that's a problem for another day, and considering Azarel cut off all contact with Surhiira and disappeared behind enemy lines after the invasion, he's all but officially been declared a defector. He won't be able to get to us here anytime soon.
“Where’smykiss?” Whiskey asks, walking up with his arms spread wide and a grin on his face.
“Go kiss him before he sets himself on fire,” I say to Plague, grinning.
With one last quick kiss, Plague moves past me toward the others. I watch as he approaches Whiskey, who's still shirtless and glistening with sweat from his earlier sparring match.
"You should really put a shirt on before you burn yourself," Plague chides, though there's fondness in his tone as he tugs Whiskey close and presses his lips to the other alpha’s. Whiskey pulls him into a crushing bear hug.
Valek's amused voice drifts over. “Too late.”
I turn my attention to Wraith, who's finally reached us. His blue eyes crinkle above his black scarf as I throw myarms around his massive frame. He rumbles softly, the sound vibrating through my entire body as he engulfs me in a gentle embrace.
"How did it go?" I ask, pulling back to look up at him.
Good. Missed you,he signs.
"I missed you too," I say softly.
He reaches up and unwraps his scarf. My breath catches as the fabric falls away, revealing his scarred jaws. At first glance, he doesn't look dramatically different. But as I study him more closely, there are subtle but noticeable changes. The furrows of scar tissue do seem smoother, blending more naturally with his skin, and the exposed muscle near his sharp back teeth doesn't look as angry.
He still looks like my Wraith, but there's less tension in his features. Like he's not in constant pain anymore.
That’s what matters most.
"You look amazing," I tell him honestly. "How do you feel?"
He shrugs those massive shoulders, but I notice the pleased glint in his eyes.Better. Doesn't hurt as much,he signs.
My heart swells with joy for him. I reach up, cupping his scarred face in my hands. "You're so handsome," I murmur, meaning every word. Always have. Then, gently, I press my lips to his sharp teeth.
Wraith freezes for a moment, clearly surprised. Then, hesitantly, he licks me in return. His own way of kissing. The gesture is almost wolflike, and it sends a shiver of heat through me.
It's gettingreallyhard to hold off.
His rumbling growl intensifies as he catches my strengthening scent, those piercing blue eyes darkening with interest.
"Oh, yeah, how'd your big fancy laser treatment go?" Whiskey's uncertain voice breaks the moment as he saunterstoward us. I turn to see him staring at Wraith, his brow furrowed in confusion as he takes in Wraith’s appearance like he’s struggling through a spot the difference puzzle. "Oh. I'm sorry, man. Or... I'm happy for you?"
I shoot him a glare.
Whiskey's distress visibly grows. "Bro, is this a trap? Am I supposed to say something specific?"
"You're supposed to shut up and mind your own business," I say, though there's no real heat in my words.
But Wraith just huffs a laugh and signs to him.I didn’t do it for you, W-H-I-S-K-E-Y.
Whiskey laughs nervously. To his credit, he’s been doing better with sign language. They all have. I asked them all to learn with me, and they’ve been putting in genuine effort with Wraith as our teacher.
Plague pinches Whiskey’s side, eliciting a startled growl from him, before he can dig himself a deeper hole. "Why don't we all sit down and enjoy the lovely dinner Ivy's prepared?"