Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 90

Chapter 89: Grace: Mama?!

Bun burrows deeper into my lap, trembling against my chest. The cave has gone deadly silent except for her sniffles.

"I can explain," Owen says again, taking another careful step back when Caine’s eyes lock onto him like heat-seeking missiles.

My heart pounds, trapped somewhere between panic and a bizarre protective instinct for the toddler currently using me as a human tissue. I’ve known this child for less than a handful of hours, but the bone-crushing tension radiating from Caine makes me want to shield her with my body.

"She’s not—we’re not—" My voice is thin. "This isn’t what it looks like."

The words are lame, but it isn’t as if I was expecting to defend myself against a toddler calling me her mother.

Caine’s jaw twitches. The tattoos on his skin seem to pulse darker, shadows writhing beneath his flesh. I can practically hear the calculations happening behind his stormy eyes—dates, timelines, possibilities...

Not that there’s much to calculate.

No. Wait. Is he really wondering if Bun could be Rafe’s...? No.

Owen clears his throat. "Bun has no parents. None of the children do." His voice remains steady despite the death stare Caine is drilling into him. "They’re all soulspliced aberrants I rescued from various facilities. Bun is the youngest."

It’s the most words I’ve ever heard him put together at once.

"Soulspliced?" I echo, glancing down at the little head tucked under my chin.

"Their souls are..." He moves his hands awkwardly. "Mixed with more than one source. Aberrants."

Bun raises her tear-stained face to look up at me. Her features shift slightly—bunny ears pop out of her head, and whiskers sprout her cheeks again. Then they’re gone.

happens so fast I might have imagined it if I hadn’t seen it multiple

louder this time, pressing her

even possible. His hands curl

all.

That I’m her

continuing, "She’ll keep repeating herself if

at the knee pressed against my side. It

Sara moans from behind her

her lower lip jutting out as she sniffs hard. "Mama," she whines, sounding a little more pathetic and less...

his eyes. "We know it hurts, Bun. Grace, you

Hee. Mama." She kicks her leg out, proving it

asks, looking way too amused by this entire situation. Her cat-slit eyes are dancing from person

saying ’owie here’," Jer translates as I kiss

saying she isn’t

"Why would he call her mama? We just

Oh.

Ohh.

and palpable, like someone just lifted an entire truck off his chest. His shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, and the murderous gleam in his eyes dims to merely threatening.

Smiles.

hurt," he says, still

narrow my eyes in his direction, but he doesn’t seem to notice, still with an absurd tilt of his lips as he nods, as if

no one’s getting murdered over a misunderstanding,

Ridiculous.

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