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...

better be put awa—" The rainbow-haired nuisance halts as soon as she sees

panic edging into my voice. A Lycan King doesn’t panic. We’re calm

howls again, a wild,

It’s exactly what Jack-Eye had mentioned before, but the mystery of her identity is

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

with the accusation. Did I demand too much of her

as if I’m not the most dangerous predator

floor sways with all

entirely on Grace. She presses two fingers to my mate’s wrist,

would bother me she

Lyre to yank a corner of the comforter over

as sharp as any Lycan’s. The command within it is no less

were—" The words stick in my

gently along Grace’s throat, examining the skin with a scowl. There’s no mark there. Not yet. "When did

rake a hand through my hair, hating how dependent I am on this strange woman to care for my Grace. "She was fine. Then she just...

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

chest squeezes painfully.

She punches in numbers, holds the phone to her ear. "We could drive her, but

unconscious and unresponsive after..." A quick glance at Grace’s shorts, still

volley of questions, and Lyre answers them decisively as I pull Grace’s limp body into my arms, fighting a

trauma," Lyre says,

No. It wasn’t

Lyre. He’s flat on

Will she be okay?

at the question. I’d just accepted this

never be mates with a

murmurs. Our bond would never hurt

And yet it has.

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