Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 25

Chapter 24: Caine: Can I Have My Hand Back?

CAINE

The girl’s wrist is so thin and fragile, I’m reasonably certain it would break under the pressure of lifting a gallon of milk.

She’s not that weak.

The bruises on her skin say otherwise, perfectly spaced. Four fingers and a thumb.

Hmm. How many fingers does a Luna need? She can probably get by with none. In fact, the Blue Mountain Pack has gone years without a Luna; I’m sure they would be just fine without one now...

Oh? Fenris perks up, his mental presence a little stronger. Are we killing her, then?

It’s a tempting thought.

I take a deep breath of blueberry muffin-scented air, recalling the unknown scent all over her when we first met. My upper lip curls back in a snarl. Better to keep that vicious little Luna alive; she’ll keep her mate in line.

Fenris hums in the back of my head. Good idea. Or we can kill both of them? His hopeful question is another temptation, but it would only bring forth more headaches in the long run.

At least without cause.

"Um..." The girl’s sweet voice interrupts my vengeful train of thought. "...Caine?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have my hand back?"

"No." She always seems to be asking for things back, a surprisingly irritating trait.

me a first-aid

doesn’t move from her place on the couch. She still smells fearful, but not enough to overpower her ever-present muffin fragrance.

checking that wrist over. There’s a small bruise, but

jumps

scared? I’m not going

and artificial, but she still doesn’t meet my gaze. My fingers

laughter dies quickly. "Oh. You’re

no intention of eating you." This assurance should

through our bond. You’re trying

across the tender skin of her inner wrist. The sight of her bruises sets my teeth on

have no intention of letting her move further away. As soon as

"Yes, I did."

trails off as she stares at my hand

fingers tighten and the scent of her fear spikes, sharp and acrid. It’s starting to grate on my nerves. I’ve given her no reason to think I’d harm her—quite the opposite, really. I’ve fed her, clothed her, and protected her from that

her, tackled her, tied her

taken. "If I wanted to hurt you, little human, I would have done so in the forest that first

my progress

punch him the next time he manifests. He’s a little too comfortable

says, in an echo of

throat before I can stop it, and the girl

her again.

precedes him as he enters, first aid kit in hand. He doesn’t bat an eye at our relocation to

the actions I took last night. The political headache

feels rough

wrapping the bandage around her wrist. She doesn’t resist, but her eyes track my

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