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.

hands hover uselessly

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

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

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

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

me—something beyond the paralyzing fear of losing Grace. My body feels different. Lighter. As if something coiled within me for

presence

not even glancing my way. "But there’s something more important you need

The words tear

with her uncanny eyes. Then she shakes her head

with your pointless display of dominance." Her voice drops to a hiss. "Or they’ll be

are you

beta’s dealing with them right now, but you need to deal with

Ah.

against the periphery of my awareness. A pack. Territory holders. A presence I would have noticed

growl through

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

the scatter of faint freckles across her nose,

back," I whisper to

Lyre sighs. "Just go."

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 bristling with restrained

the one might

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

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

in my head, leaving it to

feel... contained. 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 consume me whole. The

studies my face

give Jack-Eye a curt nod, sidestepping him to face these interlopers directly. My shoulders square, stance widening—the posture

faces grow pale. Jack-Eye’s presence should have been enough, but

your alpha?" My question cracks

direct confrontation with the Lycan King. Their discomfort saturates the air, the forced bravado of those who’ve stumbled

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