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.

while wrapping my wrist. How his presence made me feel safe despite everything he’s done. How he fed me, even if he seemed

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

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

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

acknowledge the feeling, it grows a little, stabbing holes into my conscience. It doesn’t care about the dead people, it’s primally

normal. Neither is this pull toward the Lycan King. It’s like my moral compass shattered the moment he

appears in the darkness—those sharp cheekbones, the way his lips curve when

palms until it hurts, irritated with my vapid thoughts. "He killed Alpha. He’s

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

insist he’s not evil, just different. Shifter society doesn’t hold the same standards and morals

not me who’s changed. This has to be a side effect of his Lycan King-ness. Like

onto my bed with another bone-deep sigh. The mattress feels wrong without my pillow, empty and uncomfortable without a place to rest my head.

Hopefully someone delivers them soon. I still can’t

I swivel to my other side, facing the wall. This situation is so bizarre. One minute I’m cleaning floors, the next I’m apparently important enough to start a war over. And the so-called king is not helping with his mixed signals, treating me like he cares one second and