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.

tilts her head, catlike.

pause. Does it? After everything I’ve been through with wolves, should I fear other supernatural

life at the pack—the

As long

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

strangled noise. "You can’t be serious. Grace, listen to

back, Andrew. Before they notice you’re

not leaving

is my choice. Not yours, not

evident in every line of his body. His jaw works as if chewing on words

body as

and I press my lips together, embarrassed. "I mean, if that works for you. I’m

lips as she nods. "Now works. Just need to batten down the

with the fluid grace of someone who knows exactly where every inch of their body is. Her hands reach up to unhook a macramé plant hanger,

explains, gently arranging the plant into what looks like a modified kitchen cupboard. "Otherwise it all

his fingers digging into the same

lose it." Lyre doesn’t even turn around, just continues methodically securing her plants. The calm in her voice makes the

feel his indecision. It isn’t fear, but he seems worried.

unhurried. "The decision’s been made. Either you get out, or I’ll

growl rumbling from Andrew’s chest is pure animal—a sound I’ve heard countless times in six years. My heart

dinette, I shake my arm violently until he finally lets

me—his body tenses, his face contorting. But

he says, voice low and rough.

brows fly up. "Am I not

flare. "You have no idea what you’re

fighting off an army to keep me safe, yet even Alpha and Beta fell under the might of the Lycans. It didn’t

just stands there. His breathing grows heavier, more labored, like he’s physically restraining himself from