Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 36: Grace: Eight Hundred Miles

Lyre shifts in her seat, her slitted eyes observing our exchange with quiet interest. She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to persuade either of us. Her neutrality is refreshing after years of wolves who thought they knew what was best for me. Though I wonder what she’s thinking about behind her impassive face. We must sound crazy.

Andrew rubs his hand across his face, losing some of his aggressive denial. Instead, he’s pleading. "You have no idea how dangerous this is. You’re human, Grace."

I look to Lyre. "How far is Yellowstone from here?"

"About eight hundred miles," she says calmly, like we’re discussing the weather or something.

Eight hundred miles. Eight hundred miles between me and the Blue Mountain Pack. Between me and Rafe and Ellie. Between me and the murderous Lycan King.

"You can’t outrun them," Andrew insists. "Especially not the Lycan King. If he wants you—"

I roll my eyes. "Andrew, you brought me here under the assumption we could outrun him. Now you’re changing your story because I’m not going to do what you want. You can’t have it both ways."

"But—"

"He doesn’t care about me. Trust me." The memory of Caine’s gray eyes flashes through my mind—the intensity of his gaze as he wrapped the bandage around my wrist. But I push it away.

"You’re wrong. He—" Andrew stops himself, huffing something between a sigh and a groan.

"He...?"

Grimacing, Andrew shakes his head. "It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re making a mistake. This woman—" he gestures at Lyre, "—you don’t know her. You don’t know what she is."

Lyre’s lips quirk at that. "He’s not wrong about that."

I glance between them. Andrew’s obvious mistrust, Lyre’s casual acknowledgment.

"Are you something other than human?" I ask her directly.

her head, catlike.

everything I’ve been through with wolves, should I

life at the pack—the

"It doesn’t matter. As long as

seem just a touch too sharp. "I have no interest in hurting you, Grace. You’re far more interesting

noise. "You can’t be

Before

leaving you

is my choice. Not yours,

body. His jaw works as if chewing on words he wants to

dinette, stretching her lithe body as

be best." The words come out without my bidding, and I press my lips together, embarrassed. "I mean, if that

nods. "Now works. Just need to

space with the fluid grace of someone who knows exactly where every inch of their body is. Her hands reach up to

arranging the plant into what looks like a modified kitchen cupboard. "Otherwise it all becomes projectiles the first time I hit

hand clamps around my forearm again, his fingers digging into the same spot he’d grabbed earlier. The

her or you’re going to lose it." Lyre doesn’t even turn around, just continues methodically securing her plants. The calm in her voice makes the threat more

fear, but he seems worried. Probably thinks if he pisses me off, Rafe’s going to yell at him—but also if he lets me leave, Rafe’s

places another plant into the cabinet, her movements unhurried. "The decision’s been made. Either you

years. My heart thunders in my chest, but I refuse

arm violently until he finally lets it go. "Let

at me—his body tenses, his face contorting. But the moment

will come for you," he says, voice low and rough. "Hopefully you’ll be a little

brows fly up. "Am I

nostrils flare. "You have

me safe, yet even Alpha and Beta fell under the might of the Lycans. It didn’t take

labored, like he’s physically restraining himself from shifting. Huffing and snarling under his breath, he