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.

burns red through the thin membrane, and someone’s fumbling with my arm again, and everything feels wrong and strange and

a groan. The ceiling

I croak, voice

I might not be able to see, but I

a very looming

after using it twice

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

soon as the contact is made. It’s strange, like... Like someone’s turned on a faucet, and something

Something beeps. A lot.

her,

was just

need

A growl.

true, and unconsciousness takes me

* * *

when consciousness creeps back into my

tentatively open my eyes, breathing out a soft sigh when lights don’t stab into my eyeballs this time. There’s a faint amber glow illuminating

for sure, I’m

side of my neck protesting, stiff from however long I’ve

her rainbow hair mussed and wild. Her cat-slit eyes look exhausted, with dark circles underneath. She tilts her head, studying me in

sounds like I’ve

voice carries its usual musical lilt. "How are you

to swallow, but my throat feels like it’s filled with glass shards. I cough and try again, grimacing through the

you’re clean, then." She reaches for something out of my sight,

nod and try to push myself up. My arms tremble with the effort,

behind my shoulders, supporting me with surprising strength. Her touch is cool against my skin,

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

Lyre cuts me off

feet of the building, so he’s across the street, probably glaring at

I blink.

"He deserved

I believe her, but...

is warm, with natural wood accents and what looks like hand-woven fabric covering the walls. A string of small lights creates the gentle

"Where am I?"

in the special ward upstairs." Lyre’s

blink again. "I’m

"Yeah, but he isn’t."

even from that movement. "What

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

at Lyre’s evasive answer. "You can’t just drop that and walk away. What does Caine have to do with

shrugs, the movement almost too casual. "Let’s just

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