Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 55: Grace: Sympathy For a Wolf

Lyre won’t stop staring in the direction of Andrew’s camp lot, even after closing the blinds. She can’t even see through the black fabric, so I’m not sure why she keeps looking over there.

Every few minutes, she lifts the blinds and peeks underneath, only to close them again. But she’s so nonchalant about it, like it’s something people do on a daily basis.

It’s not. Even I know that.

I’m about to ask her what she’s looking for when she suddenly drops her head with a long, heavy sigh that makes me jump.

"Your boyfriend’s lost it." Her voice sounds almost bored, but her fingers tap rapidly against her thigh.

I blink, and my stomach plummets to the vicinity of my toes. "Rafe’s my ex. Is he really here?"

Lyre turns to me with an expression so flat it could level mountains. Her left eyebrow wings up after a few seconds, and her tapping speeds up.

It seems like I’m missing something.

"What?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"I never thought I’d feel sympathy for a wolf." Her nose wrinkles. "Yet here we are."

This doesn’t sound good. "Is Caine... Did he... is Rafe dead?"

I step closer, a little panicked now. Much like Andrew, I don’t really want Rafe’s life on my hands. I also never want to see him again. Obviously, his death would fulfill my wish, but it would leave me with a whole ton of guilt I’m not willing to shoulder.

Guilt means remembering.

I don’t want to remember any of it.

Lyre raises her hand, palm out, and I freeze. "Stop. Just stop talking." Her eyes flick toward the door, then back to me, still tapping away. "I guess I need to move things along before this gets worse."

"Before what

gets worse?"

But Lyre doesn’t answer; you’d think I’d be getting used to it by now. I’m not. Instead, she straightens her spine, squares her shoulders, and marches directly to the door. I barely have time to process what’s happening before she shoves it open with enough force it slams against the side of the camper.

"Stop that," she commands to whoever’s outside. "Grace can’t breathe."

My hands fly to my throat reflexively. I look down at my chest as if I might actually see my lungs malfunctioning, but... everything seems normal? My breathing is steady, if a bit quick with anxiety. I’m not gasping or struggling for air.

I peer around Lyre’s slim frame and immediately wish I hadn’t.

I’d seen earlier are on the ground. The beta is on his knees, but the other two

what’s happening. I’ve

kneel, no difficulty breathing. No

to Lyre, who makes a shooing gesture behind her back. I guess my input is

Caine says, sounding strange.

backing down the camper steps. She does it with such ease, like she has eyes in the back of her

happening outside, but the wind brings

is inside. Don’t you want

Caine? Or is she talking to Rafe? And if it is Rafe, where is

it. I peek around the doorway again, only to verify Lyre

ceremony, storming forward. His weight on the stairs sways the RV. When he ducks through the doorway to come inside,

he didn’t do it. Lyre, I

alone with him. So much for being on my side. First Fenris, now Lyre,

eyes have darkened to storm clouds, and his

inch of him radiates barely contained

and I

of a squeak anything else,

long strides as I retreat, hands behind me feeling for obstacles. The small space of the camper suddenly feels like a trap. My lower back

Nowhere to run.

arm bands around my waist like steel while the other hand cradles the back of my head, yanking it to the side as he buries his face into the

skin as he inhales deeply, over and over, his

hover awkwardly in the air, fingers spread like starfish. I have no idea what to do with

I’m reminded of a simple fact. The

line up to the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I can’t suppress a shiver. His grip

get out, my voice higher than normal. "But if you keep squeezing me like this, I won’t

The arm around my waist loosens slightly. The hand at the back of my head becomes less demanding, more cradling. His breathing, which had been ragged and harsh, gradually

his shoulders. His muscles feel like granite

"Are you okay?"

makes a sound deep in his throat. Not quite a growl, not quite a sigh. His

Oh.

he adds, but his words don’t match his actions as he takes a step

"What isn’t—ah!"

way without resistance. Yeah, Caine let me go. But then he’d

there goes Lyre’s band

just happened. Air brushes against my skin, leaving goosebumps. Three clean slices run from

Claws.

my shoulders, revealing a plain beige bra and