Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 48: Grace: Different Wavelengths

Lyre’s hand twitches as whoever it is knocks again, right before her fingers touch the door handle.

Her head jerks back as she scowls, before dropping her arm and stepping back. Leaning against the opposite wall, she crosses her arms and counts silently, her lips moving with each number.

Her confidence is enough to instill awe. I can’t imagine a time I’ve ever felt as if I could just stand in front of a door as someone impatiently knocks, without answering.

And yet it makes all the sense in the world. This is her home. Her sanctuary. Who dares come knocking like this?

I want to be more like her.

"I’m grabbing a soda. Want one?" I whisper, slipping past her to the tiny kitchen nook.

Lyre shakes her head, still counting. I watch her lips move as she mouths, "Forty-two... forty-three..."

The knocking grows more insistent. Harder. Louder. The RV shakes with each impact, swaying gently underfoot. The first night, I’d been mildly seasick over the feeling. Now, I’m used to it.

After pulling a cold can from the fridge, I slide into one of the dinette seats, facing the door. From here, I can’t see the door, but I can watch Lyre’s methodical resistance.

"Eighty-six... eighty-seven..." She hasn’t even glanced at the door again, her eyes closed as her lips continue to move soundlessly.

I’m sure it’s Rafe out there, and am only surprised he isn’t yelling and demanding for us to open up at this point.

Then again, it isn’t like he knows Lyre, and we’re in the middle of a human settlement, even if it isn’t permanent homes. It would be awkward if the human authorities were called, I’m sure. We’re far out of pack range; I have no idea whose territory we are in now, actually.

It isn’t as if I was never taught about other territories, but there are so many, and I had no reason to be interested in packs so far from ours. Only our neighbors and some of the larger packs are familiar names.

"Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred." Lyre pushes off from the wall and strolls to the door with deliberate slowness.

The knocking has become pounding now, the thin door shuddering in its frame.

Lyre yanks it open. "Yes?" Her voice could freeze a desert in an instant. "What exactly is so important that you felt entitled to damage my property?"

I take a long sip of cold soda, relishing the sweetness. Let Rafe stew out there. Let him explain himself to someone who doesn’t care about his excuses. I’m looking forward to it; Lyre doesn’t seem like the kind of person to deal with his arrogant attitude.

for

catches in my throat.

Caine.

down the wrong pipe. My eyes tear

in front of me, his giant frame overpowering the tiny camper space. He kneels by my side, eyes locked on

I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but stare at the Lycan King who murdered Alpha Brax kneeling in front of me in this ridiculous rainbow camper looking at me

a firm smack between my shoulder blades. The impact dislodges the soda from my airway, and I cough again, the

voice sounds strangely gentle for a serial killer

are you doing here?" The

my hair, my body. His nostrils

on my appearance. My hand flies self-consciously to my now-blonde

with unnerving calculation. She doesn’t seem afraid of Caine, which strikes me as either incredibly brave

Caine’s side with a hopeful whimper, only

I blink.

serial killer, I’d think he’s a wounded husband hunting down his wife after coming

Maybe it’s my imagination.

doing a lot of things right now. My mind’s even insisting his stare lacks the razor-sharp edge I remember from our previous encounters. The tightness around his mouth has softened, and the crease in his brow

him through some kind of

hard to think clearly, and my heart keeps hammering against my ribcage in a distracting rhythm. Blaming it on fear would be nice, but my body’s all ooh and ahh

intelligence. I swear I’ve been thinking just fine the past two days without him around, and now my hips are wiggling just a little where

bunny, after all? Is it possible to lust over a man’s body

flinch away, but I’m frozen. His fingers brush against my cheek with unexpected gentleness, and

so soft and delicate when it comes out of his

his thumb skims my skin with such delicacy it might as well be a whisper. My eyelids flutter against my will as his touch travels to a strand of my newly blonde

behind my ear, his fingertips lingering at the sensitive skin

connection between us fizzling. Shoving Caine’s hand away, I blink a few times to clear

soft and gentle and

here?" I ask, doing my best to sound like his presence is unwanted. Which it is. Definitely. Even if my

.

as if that

It doesn’t.

black dog—no, wolf—peeks around Caine again with