Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 25: Grace: Changing Overnight

The bodies are gone, leaving only a large, dark stain on the ground.

The sight is enough to bring me back to my senses, though. The moment I walked into Caine’s suite, my brain was scrambled. There’s only one thing I can pinpoint as the cause of my strange behavior: The man is just too attractive.

It’s stupid. I know it’s a stupid reason. But...

God. Was I always this type of person?

The window is cool and soothing as I rest my forehead against it, my sigh deep enough to wilt my entire body. I always considered myself a good person, someone with morals and loyalty.

My head thuds against the glass again. What kind of person am I becoming? Alpha’s blood stains the ground below, yet here I stand, thinking about the way Caine’s fingers felt against my skin.

"You’re disgusting," I mumble to myself, shuddering at my lack of humanity.

This pack helped raise me. Fed me. Gave me a home when I had none. Sure, they cast me aside the moment I proved useless, but still—they were my family for years.

I press my palm flat against the cold window. The chill helps clear my head, but not enough. My thoughts keep drifting to steel-gray eyes and calloused fingers, sending tingles through my body.

forehead against the glass again. It’s oddly comforting. "He’s a murderer.

made me feel safe despite everything he’s done. How he fed me, even if he seemed irritated about

who’ll grow up without parents. Mates left alone. And here I am, swooning over their killer like some

to myself. "I’m going straight to hell. The deepest circle, where they keep the worst of the

death. Like watching a movie instead of living through a massacre. Shouldn’t I be crying? Screaming? Something other than thinking about the way Caine’s jaw clenches when he’s angry? And maybe, just maybe, not paying any attention

It doesn’t care about the dead people, it’s

detachment isn’t normal. Neither is this pull toward the Lycan King. It’s like my moral compass

worse. His face appears in the darkness—those sharp cheekbones, the

my palms until it hurts, irritated with my vapid thoughts. "He

my body doesn’t seem to care about that little detail. Neither does my mind, apparently, since it keeps circling back to him like a moth to flame. Maybe it’s a side effect of his alpha domination. Yeah, this theory makes sense. After all, my morality can’t

just different. Shifter society doesn’t hold the same standards

me who’s changed. This has to be a side effect of his Lycan King-ness. Like a poison to

my pillow, empty and uncomfortable without a place to rest my head. I roll onto my side, curling into

pillows, anyway? Hopefully someone delivers them

enough to start