Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 53: Caine: You Can’t Camp Here

CAINE

The Lyre girl’s scent is strange, but I can’t figure it out. Jack-Eye, the idiot, doesn’t seem to mind; then again, he was always partial to women. A little too friendly, a little too willing. Far more gregarious than the typical Lycan.

I glower at Lyre’s camper, fingers digging into the cheap plastic armrests of Andrew’s folding chair. Something about that woman sets my teeth on edge. The rainbow-haired enigma kicked us out the second breakfast was over—for them. She didn’t bat an eye at our half-full plates or still-steaming coffee mugs.

Who does that to the Lycan King? More importantly, who does that to any Lycan without flinching? It’s strange.

Fenris lifts his head; he’s been moping for the past ten minutes, since he was thrown out with us. He didn’t want to leave, but Grace stared at me with her pretty grass-green eyes until I picked him up and took him with me.

My wolf is not happy with me.

She smells wrong, he mutters, apparently willing to converse when we’re talking about a mutual enemy.

"I know."

No, you don’t understand. I can’t place it. Her scent is... slippery.

The hair on my neck stands up. In over two centuries, I’ve never known Fenris to be unable to categorize a scent, but what he’s saying makes sense. I’ve noticed it, too. It’s more than not knowing what she smells like; it’s as if something’s purposely not allowing us to.

"She’s hiding something," I say, watching the camper windows for movement. No hint of shadows. What’s Grace doing? Washing dishes? Maybe she’s curled up in bed, kicking her pale legs in the air as she reads a book. "No one takes in a stranger out of kindness. Not in this world."

kicked me out, too. After I worked

an eyebrow. "Sleeping arrangements

sharing her bed.

splayed across a pillow, sheets twisted around her legs, and a stubborn little pout on her lips as she

toward me. What was that? Are you finally accepting what I’ve been telling

realization of what I said hits me like a brick. I drag a hand down my face with a groan. "No. Stop putting ideas in my head.

were thinking about sharing a bed

growl, steering the conversation back. "She’s too comfortable ordering Lycans around. I even let some dominance slip this morning, and she didn’t so much as twitch." Of course, I only let out the tiniest sliver. Didn’t want to upset Grace. She seems perturbed by my presence

afraid of

what does she

Other than you.

on Fenris’s

knows something we don’t. About Grace. About you. About

through me. I’d considered obvious angles: ransom and simple human trafficking. But could it be? Is

course she’s different. She’s our

my teeth at Fenris, though it’s half-hearted. I’m on edge and rattled, and I blame not being able to touch her. Grace had avoided any physical contact like I was some sort of bug. And Lyre seemed to purposely get

detergent, and the sour stink of fear. Yes. This is the normal response to our presence. But why did Jack-Eye bring him here? Wasn’t he supposed to see what the local store had available for amenities? We don’t have enough sleeping bags for all four of us, and walking to the water fountain every time

in stock is the obvious solution, but I didn’t want to

a handkerchief knotted around his neck. The campground logo is emblazoned across his chest. "I’m real sorry, but you can’t pitch a tent

and stare at him, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably. He shifts under the weight of my attention. "Then you’ll need