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.

uselessly above

smacking my hands away. "You have something

snap at this strange enigma of a woman, but Grace

grass-green eyes staring at me with accusation

shirt off the floor, pulling it on. The fabric feels restrictive, unwelcome against

at me—something beyond the paralyzing fear of losing Grace. My body feels different.

presence feels... clearer,

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

than her." The words tear from my throat in a feral

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

dominance." Her voice drops to a hiss. "Or

are you talking

with them right now, but you need to deal with

Ah.

awareness. A pack. Territory holders. A presence I would have noticed immediately, if I wasn’t so

growl through clenched

ambulance will be here soon, so take care of them before they

her cheek, the scatter of faint

be right back," I whisper to her. "I

Lyre sighs. "Just go."

Jack-Eye stands at the foot of the RV steps, his broad back a barrier between what’s mine and a semicircle of wolves—eight of them, various ranks within their pack, all

alpha isn’t here, but the one might be their

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

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

remains by Grace, silent in my head, leaving it to

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

face with

to face these interlopers directly. My shoulders square, stance widening—the posture

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

My question cracks

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

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