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 cold, and

eyes open with a groan. The ceiling light stabs straight into my

croak, voice

might not be

very looming kind

after using it

turn off the lights," Lyre offers,

soon as the contact is made. It’s strange, like... Like someone’s turned

Something beeps. A lot.

her,

just trying

need to

A growl.

true, and unconsciousness takes

* * *

back into my head,

sigh when lights don’t stab into my eyeballs this time. There’s

I’m at a

catches my attention. I turn my head, the left side of my neck protesting, stiff from however long I’ve been laying here on a crinkly plastic

to me, her rainbow hair mussed and wild. Her cat-slit eyes look

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

voice carries its usual

swallow, 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 and hung me

mouth. "Well, at least you’re clean, then."

push myself up. My arms tremble

hand behind my shoulders, supporting me with surprising strength. Her touch is cool against my skin, which feels fever-hot and oversensitive. "Small sips. Your system’s

salvation. I hadn’t realized how parched I was until the

start to ask, but Lyre cuts me off

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

I blink.

shrugs. "He

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

"Where am I?"

in the special ward upstairs." Lyre’s lips quirk. "The one

blink again. "I’m

"Yeah, but he isn’t."

a little dizzy even from that movement. "What does Caine

cheek. "You know what? I’m going to

that and walk away. What does Caine have to do

movement almost too casual. "Let’s just say your

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