Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 51: Grace: Charity

Caine doesn’t acknowledge Lyre’s words, his stormy eyes never leaving my face. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel stripped bare, as though he’s peeling away layers I didn’t even know I had.

Then there’s my body.

The stupid thing wants to wrap itself around him until his smell seeps into my skin, deep enough it can never be scrubbed away. To lick his neck and see what he tastes like. To put my mouth—

Damn it, my mind’s going haywire.

Stupid body. Stupid cologne-ad smell. Stupid sexy werewolf.

"Come on, boss." Jack-Eye claps a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s give the ladies their beauty sleep."

Suddenly, I like Caine’s beta very much. What a reasonable, thoughtful man.

Andrew remains awkwardly positioned on the ground; he hasn’t twitched a muscle this entire time, and no one seems concerned about helping him up. To be fair, I wasn’t, either. Knowing he’s alive is good enough; I’m not interested in taking him in as a friend and making sure he’s happy or anything. I just didn’t want his death on my hands.

Backing away, I mount the first step to Lyre’s camper. Caine’s eyes track the movement, his body tensing as if to follow, and I narrow my eyes.

I climb the second step, still ascending backwards. He hasn’t moved, but his fists clench at his sides.

"Turn around," he says roughly, scowling once again. "You’re going to fall."

Hmm. Telling him I’m going backward because I want to make sure he isn’t following probably won’t go over very well. Frowning, I do as commanded, but pause to cautiously peek over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved, and he’s still glowering at me like I’m doing something wrong.

The third step puts me at the threshold. When I look back for the last time, I swear, Caine stands like a statue, tall and immovable in the darkness.

A cold knot forms in my stomach as I step through the doorway. It feels like turning my back on someone who wants to eat me.

too. But the illusion shatters when something large brushes past my legs. I yelp, spinning around to find Fenris already making himself comfortable on the tiny patch of

by his audacity. "I

the last to step inside, frowning at

blinks at me, his gray eyes almost

no, you can’t stay here." I point toward the door. "Out.

Fenris doesn’t budge.

of a miniature pony," Lyre observes from the doorway, her slitted eyes taking in the scene. "Where exactly do you think we’ll put

the wolf. "Outside, with his master. Go

and

he’s going anywhere." Lyre steps inside, closing and locking the door behind her. Before it closes completely, I catch a

what we needed—a spy." I rub my temples where a headache begins to throb. "You realize he’s going to report everything

stepping over Fenris’s massive form to reach the sink. "Maybe. Or maybe he has his own agenda." She fills a glass

cool liquid touched my lips. I drain the glass in one go, guzzling it down like I’ve ran a marathon in a desert. The emotional strain of the last half hour feels equal to the

my empty glass. "Is it normal for you to

guests." She refills my glass and hands it over, but my belly’s already sloshing, so

an eye open, his ear flicking one

tattle. If you do, you’re out. I will drag you out

thumps against

agreed to our contract," I warn him.

Another tail thump.

of my sails. "I don’t think even I can manhandle that beast through

point. Fenris must weigh three hundred pounds, at least. If he decides to stay, we don’t have

Ugh.

you

floor. I don’t want

his head with a sudden whine,

think of getting on