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.

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

more than anything. But you..." Lyre frowns, smacking my hands away. "You

want to snap at this strange enigma of a woman,

me with accusation makes my stomach

the floor, pulling it on. The

of losing Grace. My body feels different. Lighter. As if something coiled within me for

presence feels...

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

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

her uncanny eyes. Then

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 you don’t

are you

an audience. Your beta’s dealing with them right

Ah.

wolf energy against the periphery of my awareness. A pack.

growl through

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

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

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

Lyre sighs. "Just go."

RV steps, his broad back a barrier between what’s mine and

here, but the one

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

these lesser wolves for daring to interrupt when my mate lies unconscious. Even Fenris should be clawing at my control,

in my head,

lucidity courses through my veins where molten fury should be. I can still access my anger—it’s

my face with

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

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

your alpha?" My question cracks through the

a direct confrontation with the Lycan King. Their discomfort saturates the air, the forced

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