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 above Grace’s still form.

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

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

at me with accusation makes my stomach quiver. It seems I’ve acquired many

grab my shirt off the floor, pulling it

body feels different. Lighter. As if something coiled within me for

presence feels...

Lyre says, not even glancing my way. "But there’s something more important you need to deal with right

is more important than her." The words tear from my throat in

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

outside and deal with who you brought here with your pointless display of dominance." Her voice drops to a hiss. "Or they’ll be breaking down my door, and I promise

are you

summoned an audience. Your beta’s dealing with them right

Ah.

unfamiliar wolf energy against the periphery of my awareness. A pack. Territory holders. A presence I would have

growl through

forehead. "The ambulance will be here soon, so take care of them before they scare off the EMTs. I’ve got Grace.

curve of her cheek, the scatter of faint freckles across

I whisper to her. "I

Lyre sighs. "Just go."

broad back a barrier between what’s mine and a semicircle of wolves—eight of them, various ranks within their pack,

but the

in his voice. "The Fiddleback Pack

daring to interrupt when my mate lies

silent in my head, leaving it to

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 sensation

studies my face with a

face these interlopers directly. My shoulders square, stance

scent, and the light dominance rolling through the air, their faces grow pale. Jack-Eye’s presence should have been

My question

uncomfortably, exchanging glances. This pack was clearly unprepared for a direct confrontation with the Lycan King. Their discomfort saturates the air, the forced bravado of those who’ve

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