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

takes a second to recognize what’s happening. I’ve already seen

no difficulty breathing. No hint

a shooing gesture

Caine says, sounding strange.

toward me, mouth set in a stern line. She holds a palm up, mouthing "stay right here" before backing down the camper steps.

hear what’s happening outside, but the wind brings her voice

Don’t you want to

is she talking to Rafe? And if it is Rafe,

peek around the doorway again, only to verify Lyre is talking

sways the RV. When he ducks through the doorway

him; he

on my side. First Fenris, now Lyre,

overwhelming, but now he looks positively feral. Veins stand out against his neck. His eyes have darkened to storm clouds, and

of him radiates barely

and I

more of a squeak anything else, but he doesn’t respond,

legs eat up the distance between us in long strides as I retreat, hands behind me feeling for obstacles. The small space of the camper suddenly

Nowhere to run.

my lungs. One arm bands around my waist like steel while the

breath scorches my skin as he inhales deeply, over and

starfish. I have no idea what to do with my hands. Pat his back? Push

reminded of a simple fact. The Lycan King

sensitive spot behind my ear, and I can’t

higher than normal. "But

ease the crushing pressure of his embrace. 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 slows

like granite beneath my palms, but even as

"Are you okay?"

a growl, not quite

Oh.

match his actions as he

"What isn’t—ah!"

shirt gives way without resistance. Yeah, Caine let

there goes

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

Claws.

my shoulders, revealing a plain beige bra and my bare stomach.