Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 62

Chapter 61: Grace: Transference (I)

My body feels like it’s been used as a car crash dummy. Voices filter through the cotton stuffed between my ears, muffled and distant at first, then gradually sharpening into familiar tones. Angry tones.

"Absolutely not. Stay ten feet away at all times." Lyre.

An unmistakably familiar growl. "You aren’t in charge here."

"No, but they are, and you’re sucking her dry every time you make contact. Keep your damn mutt off her, too."

A snarl. Definitely Fenris.

"Stop looking at me like that. You’re a mutt without manners."

Consciousness hovers just out of reach, and honestly, slipping back into oblivion seems like the smart option. Nothing good waits in a room where Lyre and the Lycan King are squaring off. Death wish, party of one.

"Her energy is finally stabilizing, and you two want to go right in and take what she’s gathered—"

"If touching hurts, why are you letting them touch her?"

"They’re not feeding off her like she’s an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Oh. This sounds... not great.

A cool touch slides along my inner arm, followed by a sharp sting. Something tugs at my skin, and the sensation drags me closer to full awareness. Not Lyre’s touch—someone else’s. Cold and strange-feeling.

"BP is 90/60. Heart rate stable at 64." An unfamiliar voice, clipped and professional. "Okay, the IV’s in."

"All right. Let’s push some fluids." Another stranger.

Kind of sounds like I’m in a hospital.

"Let’s get ready to move her."

"You’re not taking her," Caine snaps.

Okay, maybe not a hospital. Oh. They probably called an ambulance. Now it makes sense.

"They can if they need to," Lyre argues.

Fenris whines.

My eyes flutter.

"She moved," Caine says immediately, tension vibrating through his voice. "Grace?"

Play dead, I tell myself. Just five more minutes of unconsciousness before facing whatever catastrophe awaits.

through the thin membrane, and someone’s fumbling with my arm

groan. The ceiling light stabs straight into

croak, voice

might not be able to see, but

looming kind

word looming is starting to sound weird after using it twice in a row. Even worse

turn off the lights," Lyre offers, sounding further away

as the contact is made. It’s strange, like...

Something beeps. A lot.

her,

just trying

you need to

A growl.

wish comes true, and unconsciousness takes me away

* * *

consciousness creeps back

when lights don’t stab into my eyeballs this time. There’s a faint amber glow illuminating the

for sure, I’m

side of my neck protesting, stiff

hair mussed and wild. Her cat-slit eyes look exhausted,

I croak. My voice sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel. How long was I

carries its usual musical lilt. "How are

but my throat feels like it’s filled with glass shards. I cough and try again, grimacing through the pain. "Like someone ran me through a washing machine

corner of Lyre’s mouth. "Well, at least you’re clean, then." She reaches

and try to push myself up. My

slips a hand behind my shoulders, supporting me with surprising strength. Her touch is cool against my skin, which feels

water slides down my throat like salvation. I hadn’t realized how parched I

to ask, but Lyre cuts me off

out. Can’t be within one hundred feet of the building, so he’s across the street, probably

I blink.

"He

I believe her, but...

space is warm, with natural wood accents and

"Where am I?"

hospital. You’re in the special ward upstairs." Lyre’s

blink again.

"Yeah, but he isn’t."

I tilt my head. I’m a little dizzy even from that movement. "What does Caine have to do with what ward I’m

her cheek. "You know what? I’m going to let

evasive answer. "You can’t just drop that and walk away. What does Caine have to

movement almost too casual. "Let’s just

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