Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 61

Chapter 60: Caine: Fiddleback

CAINE

"Put Grace down," Lyre says.

"No."

No, Fenris echoes.

My arms tighten around my limp mate, clutching her to my chest. I refuse to let her go. My lips press against her temple, feeling how cool her skin is. Her breathing’s shallow. Her pulse is weak.

The thought of letting her go—even for a moment—stabs through me like silver.

"Put. Her. Down," Lyre orders, as if commanding the Lycan King is something she can do on a whim. "Your emotions are all over her right now. She doesn’t need your panic seeping into what little energy she has left."

"No."

Lyre’s slitted eyes narrow further. "Do you want to kill her?"

Of course not. She’s the other half of my soul. The fated connection I’d denied is burning bright in my chest, rattled by the thought of losing her.

Losing a mate is hard, but the thought of losing Grace is... impossible. Dying would be preferable.

Lyre sighs and stomps out of the room, shaking the camper with each step. A short while later, she’s back, with a soft white t-shirt. "Here. You can put this on her."

Grace’s torn shirt is still on the floor, and shame washes through me at the evidence of my lack of control. Everything that happened between us had been perfect, transcendent—until it wasn’t.

Pathetic fool. I should have held back. It was obvious a human couldn’t handle what we have between us.

She can handle it, Fenris insists. Something is wrong. It isn’t our bond. The Goddess would not allow it.

With the greatest reluctance, I lower Grace back onto the bed. Lyre doesn’t waste time, pushing in beside me to slip the shirt over Grace’s head. She’s like a ragdoll, without even a hint of resistance.

Even the scent of blueberries is faint, hard to pinpoint in the mix of other smells.

stay with her." My hands hover uselessly above Grace’s still form. "I need to

rest more than anything. But you..." Lyre frowns, smacking my hands away. "You have something else

of a woman, but Grace holds her

beautiful, grass-green eyes staring at me with accusation makes my stomach quiver. It

upon magnanimity, I ignore Lyre’s audacity and grab my shirt off the floor, pulling it on. The fabric

paralyzing fear of losing Grace. My body feels different. Lighter. As if something

Fenris’s presence

there’s time," Lyre says, not even glancing my way. "But there’s something more important you

more important than her." The words

Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me with her uncanny eyes. Then she shakes her head

voice drops

you

an audience. Your beta’s dealing with them right now, but you need to deal

Ah.

of my awareness. A pack. Territory holders. A presence

through clenched

so take care of them before they scare off the EMTs. I’ve got Grace. Go be

of

back," I whisper to

Lyre sighs. "Just go."

between what’s mine and a semicircle of

but the one

Jack-Eye says, relief evident in his voice. "The Fiddleback Pack was concerned

these lesser wolves for daring to interrupt when my mate lies

in my head, leaving it to

A strange lucidity courses through my veins where molten fury should be. I can still access my anger—it’s there, simmering beneath my skin—but it no longer threatens to

my face with a

My shoulders square, stance widening—the posture of a king who refuses

rolling through the air, their faces grow pale. Jack-Eye’s presence should have been enough, but not all wolves are smart enough to recognize a Lycan. Especially

alpha?" My question cracks through

wolves shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances. This pack was clearly unprepared for a direct confrontation with the Lycan King. Their discomfort saturates the air, the

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