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.

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

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

of a woman, but Grace holds her in great affection.

thought of Grace’s beautiful, grass-green eyes staring at me with accusation makes my stomach quiver. It seems I’ve acquired many new fears

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

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

Fenris’s presence feels...

what’s happening to her when there’s time," Lyre says, not even glancing my way. "But there’s something more

words tear from my throat

me with her uncanny eyes. Then she shakes her head with

with your pointless display of dominance." Her voice drops to a hiss. "Or they’ll be breaking down my door, and

are you

little tantrum summoned an audience. Your beta’s dealing with them right now, but

Ah.

the periphery of my awareness. A pack. Territory holders. A

growl through

hand on Grace’s forehead. "The ambulance will be here soon, so take care of them before they scare off the

look at Grace, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the scatter of faint freckles across her nose, the slow rise and

back," I whisper to

Lyre sighs. "Just go."

a barrier between what’s mine and a semicircle of

alpha isn’t here, but the one might be

voice. "The Fiddleback Pack

these lesser wolves for daring to interrupt when my mate lies unconscious. Even Fenris should

silent in my head,

where molten fury should be. I can still access my anger—it’s there, simmering beneath

my face with

a curt nod, sidestepping him to face these interlopers directly. My shoulders

air, their faces grow pale. Jack-Eye’s presence should have been

My

confrontation with the Lycan King. Their discomfort saturates the air, the forced bravado of those

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