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.

have imagined it if I hadn’t seen it

louder this time, pressing

possible. His hands

behind us all. "Grace, you have to

I’m

if you

down at the knee pressed against my side. It looks a little red. "Her

moans from

hard. "Mama," she whines, sounding a little more pathetic and less... loud. But there’s

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

Mama. Hee. Mama." She kicks her leg

this entire situation. Her cat-slit eyes are dancing from person to person, her lips twitching every

’owie here’," Jer translates as I

she isn’t calling

his arms. "Why would he call her mama? We just met her. ’Mama’ means

Oh.

Ohh.

is immediate and palpable, like someone just lifted an entire truck off his chest. His shoulders drop a fraction of an inch, and the

Smiles.

hurt," he says, still

in his direction, but he doesn’t seem to notice, still with an absurd

motherhood to not-motherhood in the span of three seconds, I also feel relieved. And no one’s getting murdered over a misunderstanding, so even better. But as I look down

Ridiculous.

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