Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 30

Chapter 29: Grace: Did I Offend Him?

My stomach is gnawing itself to death.

I press a hand against it, willing it to calm down as I resume pacing the perimeter of my room. Seven steps along the wall. Turn. Five steps across. Turn. Seven steps back. Turn. Five steps to the door.

I crack it open for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

The Blue Mountain shifter stands at attention, back rigid as a plank. He doesn’t even twitch as I peer around the edge of the door. His eyes remain fixed forward, as if I’m nothing but a breeze passing through the hallway.

I close the door with a sigh and press my forehead against the cool wood. My stomach clenches painfully. The mountain of breakfast from earlier features in my regrets; I should have stuffed my face while I had the chance. Or at least taken some with me.

Another cramp twists my insides. Decision made.

I yank open the door, determination straightening my spine.

"Hey! I need—"

My words die as I nearly collide with a broad chest. Not the Blue Mountain guard. The Lycan King himself stands before me, his hand raised mid-knock, a tray balanced perfectly in his other palm. The scent of lasagna and garlic bread makes my mouth water in the most unbecoming way.

His eyebrow arches, storm-gray eyes assessing as they rove over me. I take an instinctive step back, which is apparently Lycan for come on in because that’s precisely what he does.

Rude.

Then again, he made it oh-so-clear I’m his prisoner, so can I really complain?

He kicks the door closed with his heel without looking, his gaze never leaving my face. "Are you comfortable?" he asks, setting the tray on my bed.

I eye him suspiciously. Personally delivering food and asking about my comfort? His behavior is on a rollercoaster again.

"I’m fantastic, thank you."

His jaw tightens. "You’re not."

"I just said I am, though?"

He grunts. "Your boyfriend will be instated as Alpha tonight."

I already know that, thanks to Andrew. "I’m sure he’s happy about it."

of my bed, effectively cutting me off from

but I wring my hands together, digging my nails into

my linked

it much, the pain is bearable. It’s the hunger killing me now, but it’s being gatekept by a Lycan

don’t have time to flinch. My breath catches as

endings in my hair, but the action sends shivers

again by the strangeness of this situation. Thankfully, Andrew’s coming tonight. Just a little

brought to the

a groan. He brings me food—which I’m dying to devour—but of course it comes with a cost. I guess I won’t be allowed to eat if

remember any of what I said before,

answer crisply, fighting the urge to step away. Any sudden movement might upset him, and I’m not risking him taking away my

the strand. "Six," he repeats,

remember the details of what I told him, but he should

claimed you as

at my sides. "Until

eyes narrow, his fingers still absently toying with my hair. "Yes, explain

patience fractures. The lasagna is right there, its cheese congealing while he plays twenty questions.

releases my hair and steps aside with a gesture toward the bed.

edge of the mattress. The first bite of lasagna hits my tongue, and I have to stifle a moan. It’s perfect—rich tomato sauce, seasoned

Pack is no longer home, but the chef

me as his eyes

Mate Hunt. I guess he was trying to force me to shift. He thought I was his biological daughter and found out I wasn’t." I shrug. "Then he tossed me to the

’find out’?" His voice

you, after the Mate Hunt. When

to face me, blocking the light from the window. "Did he ever bring up

"No."

"Not even at sixteen?"

a pretty big sweet sixteen. He would always get me a cake for

see. How was his

because the day was so special to me. "He had to leave halfway through because something came up. I didn’t think much of it because Rafe was with me." Poking my lower lip with my fork, I squint in the air, as if it’ll help me see my memory with more clarity. "He was happy when I first saw him that morning,

the room and Caine spins away from me, pacing

appetite vanishing under the weight of his agitation. He’s

to mate you

sequitur throws me for a loop, and I

his voice sharp as a blade. "He’s not your alpha

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