Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 60

Chapter 59: Caine: Took Everything She Had to Give

CAINE

Grace’s limp body fuels a new feeling, something old and unfamiliar. It’s an emotion I haven’t felt since I was a young pup, long before I came into strength and power.

Terror.

What is it? Fenris asks. He’s been silent, politely blocking himself off from our intimacy, even when that rainbow-haired chit was banging on the door.

She’s unconscious.

"Grace."

I shake her shoulder, the skin under my palm cool to the touch. Too cool.

"Grace, wake up."

Her head lolls as I jostle her, hair splaying across the pillow in bleached golden waves. Not a flutter of eyelashes, not a twitch. My stomach drops with dread.

"Grace!" My voice sharpens with command, an alpha’s order.

Nothing. Just her pale face, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she waking?

Fenris explodes into panic, his howl ripping through my mind and air both. Strange voices join in, but they’re the least of my worries.

You killed her. You killed our mate!

"Shut up," I growl, placing two fingers against the pulse in her throat. It flutters weakly beneath my touch. "She’s alive."

The sudden crash of the door flying open makes me whip around, a snarl building in my throat as I storm around the corner and into the hall, Grace still limp on the daybed. Just moments ago, she’d been so alive, so vibrant, with the scent of her climax filling the air.

Now...

nuisance halts as soon as she sees

to contain the panic edging into my voice. A Lycan King doesn’t panic. We’re

a wild, uncontrolled yodel

blinks at me. Something shifts in her strange eyes, until her pupils become slitted. It’s exactly what Jack-Eye had mentioned before, but the mystery of

rushing forward to shove past me with surprising strength for her diminutive, humanoid size.

the accusation. Did I demand too much

aside as if I’m

sways with all

doesn’t look at me again, her focus entirely on Grace. She presses two fingers to my mate’s wrist, then leans close to her face, watching

me she

a corner of the comforter over

she demands, her voice as sharp as any Lycan’s. The command within it is no less

The words stick in my

the skin with a scowl. There’s no mark there. Not yet. "When did she pass out? Before,

through my hair, hating how dependent I am on this strange woman to care for my Grace. "She was fine.

Lyre mutters, fishing a phone from her pocket. "This far out, it’ll take

chest squeezes

to

young woman, is unconscious and unresponsive after..." A quick glance at Grace’s shorts, still on. She frowns at

Grace’s limp body

visible trauma," Lyre says,

No.

stroke Grace’s hair, noticing Fenris behind Lyre. He’s flat on the ground, his eyes never

Will she be okay?

question. I’d just accepted this tiny, frail little human as mine.

humans can never be mates with a

murmurs. Our bond would never hurt

And yet it has.

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