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...

soon as she sees my face, and

I order, trying to contain the panic edging into my voice. A Lycan King doesn’t panic. We’re calm and

wild,

her pupils become slitted. It’s exactly what Jack-Eye had

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

the accusation. Did I demand too much of

against the wall as she rushes to Grace, pushing me aside as if I’m not the

sways with all of

Grace. She presses two fingers

me she can see Grace’s naked

still bothers me. I dash past Lyre to yank a corner of the comforter over Grace, protecting her from the other woman’s

she demands, her voice as sharp as any Lycan’s. The command

The words

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

I am on this strange

mutters, fishing a phone from her pocket. "This

minutes. My chest squeezes

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

off, attention shifting to the call. "Yes, medical emergency. My friend, a young woman, is unconscious and unresponsive after..." A quick glance at Grace’s shorts, still on. She frowns at

a volley of questions, and Lyre answers them decisively as I pull Grace’s limp body into my arms, fighting a growl when she reaches out to check her

visible trauma," Lyre says, and I

think I...? No. It wasn’t

He’s flat

Will she be okay?

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

proof humans can never be

Fenris murmurs. Our bond

And yet it has.

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