Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia
Chapter 89
Chapter 88: Lyre: Let’s All Calm Down
LYRE
Jack-Eye steps forward, hands raised. "Let’s all calm down."
I ignore him. "Do you want to send her back to intensive care? Because that’s what will happen if you drain her again. Energy transference isn’t a joke."
Caine’s jaw works as he processes this, his desire to touch Grace warring with his need to keep her safe. It’s almost endearing how much his instincts conflict with each other.
Finally, he moves to a cushion near Grace—close, but not touching—and sits with the stiff posture of someone expecting an attack at any moment.
"Where is Fenris?" Grace asks, leaning forward but keeping her hands to herself.
"Recuperating," Caine answers shortly. His gaze never leaves her face, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. "He used a lot of energy."
The way his voice darkens tells me there’s more to the story, but now isn’t the time to pry. His brain’s somewhere else, I’m sure, the kind of place it shouldn’t be with children under the same roof. Thankfully, they’re in the other room.
Then his attention shifts to me and Owen.
Huh.
Maybe I’m wrong. The man’s upper brain is still working.
"What is this place?" the overbearing brute demands. "Why is Grace here?"
Grace moves so suddenly I almost don’t catch her in time. One moment she’s sitting there all wide-eyed innocence, the next her hand is reaching toward Caine’s arm with an instinctive need to comfort.
I lunge forward, smacking her hand away before contact.
"No touching!"
drops open in shock as she cradles her hand against her chest. Not that I hurt her—I’d never—but the surprise of it stings worse than
make most creatures soil themselves and beg for
to lose patience with this
gesture, like brushing away a particularly annoying insect—and the air responds instantly, condensing into a wave
enough force to rattle his oversized ego. The cushions scatter around him as he slides down to the floor, his expression a spectacular blend
the entrance, makes a strangled sound. Poor thing. Probably contemplating which exit strategy won’t get him
looking between Grace and Caine. "That I’m just being dramatic
in the
clears his throat. "Well—she did say
least one of them
finger toward the now-seething Lycan King, "—is overwhelming. One touch, even a small one, and he’ll pull from you again. He can’t
eyes widen. She looks down at her hand like it’s
intending
think, you just act, and suddenly you’re back in a
barely contained rage. His hands clench
three seconds to explain why I shouldn’t
my eyes. "Because A: you can’t, and B: I’m trying
Jack-Eye whispers from somewhere behind me, sounding far too amused for someone
hands together, loud enough to startle everyone. The brief nudge of arcana to amplify the sound might have helped. "Charming as this display of dominance is—truly, it’s riveting—there are way more important questions to ask right now,
no doubt to say something predictably threatening, when
around the corner, her face smeared with what appears to be pizza sauce and possibly chocolate. I hope it’s
braided hair sprints with her arms outstretched, looking
she hisses, reaching for the
floor with the unstoppable momentum of
directly into Grace’s lap with a flying leap Olympic gymnasts would admire and lets
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