Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 52: Grace: Muffin

Lyre was right.

Fenris hides under the dinette table as I vacuum black fur off the daybed comforter. I’d tried to kick him out when I woke up to a furry, dead weight on my feet, but he’s ultimately too heavy to drag out the door.

The vacuum roars as I attack another patch of black fur. Every swipe feels like a tiny rebellion against the wolf—against Caine—against this whole ridiculous situation. If I can’t control anything else in my life, at least I can eliminate this evidence of unwanted company.

A pathetic whimper sounds from behind me, followed by the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a tail against the camper’s floor. I refuse to turn around. Fenris might look like an oversized puppy right now, but he’s not. He’s a full-grown wolf, and he knows exactly what he did wrong.

I shut off the vacuum with more force than necessary. The sudden silence feels accusatory.

"You should get dressed." Lyre doesn’t look up from her phone, just sips her coffee, her rainbow hair catching the morning light through the windows. "They’ll be here soon."

My stomach drops, and I groan. "Do I have to?"

Last night’s dreams flash through my mind—fragments of nightmares where I was locked in a stone tower, my blonde hair grown long like Rapunzel’s, watching the world through a tiny window. But worse than those were the other dreams—the ones where Caine’s hands weren’t dragging me away but pulling me close, his mouth not speaking threats but...

Heat crawls up my neck.

"Unless you want to greet the Lycan King in your pajamas." Lyre sounds utterly unconcerned. "Which, honestly, might be a power move."

I’m not sure how pajamas equal power, but I grab one of Lyre’s old band t-shirts and a pair of stretchy shorts and take them with me to the bathroom. Five minutes later, I’m back out, second-guessing the shorts. But my jeans are dirty, and Lyre’s don’t fit.

"Weren’t we supposed to go to—" I stop, frowning at Fenris. "You know, away?"

Lyre finally looks up, her slitted eyes unreadable. "It would just be a waste of money at this point."

"What?"

"Gas. Food. Lodging." She ticks off each item on her fingers. "All expensive. And for what? He’s not going to let you go so easily."

Ugh.

I’m not sure why Caine’s even hunting me down, but after last night, it’s pretty clear he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Maybe he thinks I’m trying to take over the Blue Mountain Pack or something. Taint it with half-human, half-shifter babies? He seems pretty obsessed with bringing up my relationship to Rafe, and now he’s worried about Andrew, too.

"That makes sense," I mumble.

"What does?"

you know? They don’t like it when humans mix with their pack. Even before

lap, Lyre gives me her full attention, her eyebrows bunching together. She seems concerned more than interested. Maybe she’s worried about me. "Okay. Hit me with your theory,

lighter than others. "I’m thinking Caine’s worried I’ll try to... I don’t know, seduce Rafe back or something? Use our history to influence him? Or maybe he’s

to Lyre, who only has bits and pieces of my backstory. "Rafe’s the new alpha of the pack," I add helpfully as

She nods slowly. "Okay..."

purity, right? So it makes sense he’d be suspicious

her stillness makes me feel like I’m being dissected. "This is the conclusion you’ve

just

trying to take over a pack

mouth, close it, then fall back against my pillow. She’s right. It makes no sense, putting me directly back at square one. Why am I getting chased by

Fenris huffs.

my fingers through my hair with enough force to make my scalp sting. "I just don’t get it, then. Why is

get good grades

sequitur catches me off

blank. "In school. Were you a

mean... I did okay,

Then it’s

can ask what she means, three sharp knocks rap against the

a drop of coffee. "Breakfast’s here," she

minutes later, Caine and Jack-Eye stand in the kitchen, crowding our space. Their hulking figures block out most of the morning light,

open—I can see Andrew cleaning up his

tent together," Lyre says, plucking a to-go container of

balancing more white boxes. "Andrew

if they got to eat breakfast already. It feels a little

sets everything on the counter, opening each container as he does so. White toast, as requested. Eggs—both over

the sight, but I’ll wait to get my plate. With two Lycans and

recoils when she sees

gasps and clutches a hand over his heart, as if her words mortally wounded him. "Mademoiselle. French toast is the best breakfast food in

Lyre counters, putting eggs on her plate. "Bread that’s been dunked in eggs and

to a higher form of existence." Jack-Eye points at her with a

"Just

frowns. "Are you

Lyre says, unfazed.