Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 63: Caine: Ten Minutes

CAINE

In hindsight, our arrival to the hospital could have been handled better.

Fenris grumbles, refusing to acknowledge his part in the chaos. He’s still upset to learn wolves aren’t allowed in the hospital. Service animals only.

... and getting mad at your mate’s doctors for refusing him entry doesn’t endear you to the hospital staff—or security.

Granted, I could have stood my ground. It isn’t as if their pathetic security force is enough to stop the wrath of a Lycan, much less their king. From what I can tell, even an average beta could wreck the place. After all, like most hospitals, they cater to humans. Even a weak shifter can overpower an average human.

A place like this doesn’t need someone capable of standing up to an alpha, much less a Lycan. Most of us don’t even heal slow enough to require hospital care. A few might require intensive treatment if they’re too weak for natural healing to kick in, but such situations are rare. Broken bones do need treatment, but rarely require an overnight stay. By far, the majority of shifters admitted to a hospital are there for one reason: Pregnancy.

Illness and injury may not plague our people the way it haunts a human’s lifetime, but even supernaturals can have issues with birthing offspring.

Which explains why the humans became so squirrelly when I threatened to throw her first doctor through a wall, daring to tell me our presence is unnecessary because Grace was just sleeping. A violent environment is no place to bring a fresh pup into the world.

Magnanimous as I am, I allowed their pathetic security force to escort me off hospital grounds...

Only because Lyre threatened to lock you out of her home if you didn’t, Fenris huffs. You can’t keep treating humans like this if you want Grace to like you.

She does like me. This fact is now established. Granted, she liked me a little too much and fainted afterward...

I check my phone again, a growl building in my throat. Nothing. The screen remains stubbornly blank, no new messages from Lyre.

Ten minutes. Ten goddamn minutes since her last update.

She said Grace is stable. You heard the doctor yourself.

"I don’t trust them," I mutter, pacing outside of the gas station conveniently located across the street from the hospital. They want me one hundred feet away, which is fine... but I’m not going any farther. "How hard is it to send a text?"

She’s ignoring you. Stop demanding updates every five minutes. She has better things to do, like actually watching over Grace.

I grit my teeth over the annoying truth of his words. "Don’t start."

Maybe he’s right, though. Five minutes might be extreme. Ten minutes should be fine, though.

I wasn’t the one who threatened to disembowel the nurse for asking you to fill out paperwork.

My eyebrows snap together. "He was keeping me from Grace. Her IV was pulling at her skin—"

He was doing his job. And Lyre fixed the IV.

The rainbow-haired enigma had even slapped my hand away again, telling me in no uncertain terms to stay away from Grace. That’s when it all started. The humans had given me strange looks.

Fine. Maybe he’s right about the one instance, but the rest...

You mean the doctor you pinned against the wall?

"He told us to leave."

yelled at for asking you to lower your

"She was disrespectful."

does make me sound a little

the receptionist you made cry when she couldn’t access

bare my teeth. "Are you

Someone should.

A nearby woman clutching a coffee cup flinches, scurrying to her car and slamming the

Fenris list my transgressions. Like he’s some sort of priest instead of an

isn’t about me. It’s

snarl, trying to keep it a little quieter than normal. These humans find talking

humans aren’t a great choice of

Grace, though. She’s comfortable

afraid, Fenris points out, ruining the small surge of pride and affection coursing through me over the thought of Grace’s acceptance of

"I’m not—"

out at everyone else. Kings have pride, but only an idiot king

my jaw, pointedly ignoring Fenris’s sanctimonious lecture. The silence stretches between us, heavy

up with a new notification.

[LYRE: She’s fine.]

it might reveal

minutes. The vague message only amplifies my anxiety

taking the moral high ground he seems determined to make his home. It’s all an act,

punching the screen. I

awake? Still resting?

dots appear, indicating Lyre’s typing a response, then disappear. Appear again. Disappear. My patience frays with each

Ask nicely, Fenris suggests.

"Fuck off."

before quickening his pace. I bare my teeth at his

silent.

that sterile building across the street. The distance—mere hundreds of feet—feels like

try it Fenris’s

update me on her condition. Is

comes almost

results. She needs

Speaking. The tightness in my chest loosens

I

response:

scraping against my phone case. A growl builds in my throat, rumbling so loud a car pulling into the gas

again. She doesn’t need that

I suppose

"High Alpha?"

his approaching scent, and I wonder why the Fiddleback Pack keeps sending idiots to speak with the Lycan King. It’s common knowledge not to approach a stronger opponent from

I snap, turning to face

and he smiles at me with perfect white teeth. His stance suggests casual

Dawson. Everyone calls me Marsh." He extends