Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 93

Chapter 92: Grace: Awkward Space

My body reacts before my brain even notices. I scramble backward like an awkward human crab, making it a foot away before my right wrist buckles out of nowhere.

My elbow crashes into the ground.

I adjust my position, trying to make my panicked retreat look casual.

I fail.

Spectacularly.

At least if I’m judging by the look on his face.

My cheeks are hot enough to light a fire.

Caine’s hand hangs suspended between us, frozen in mid-air. His face has transformed from brow-creased concern to wide-eyed bewilderment, like I just sprouted a second head.

He’s back to concern, but now it’s the kind of concern you give a kid after they faceplant a sidewalk.

"No touching, remember?" I manage, my voice hitting soprano when it’s usually a comfortable alto.

For a long moment, he stares at his outstretched hand like it’s not even his. Then he slowly brings it back to his side.

Tension thickens between us.

"Right," he mutters. "No touching."

I pull my knees tighter to my chest, wishing I could disappear into the stone floor.

"It’s not that I don’t—" I stop, feeling my face grow even hotter. How does one say yes, I’d like you to touch me without it sounding like a perverted invitation?

So I keep my mouth shut instead of finishing my sentence.

Fated connection or not, I still feel embarrassment. And awkwardness. And like we’re a little too close to feel like strangers now—especially since his hands have literally been in my pants, which is way out of stranger territory—but still feeling as if I don’t know the man at all.

We’ve fast-forwarded through the most basic part of a relationship: getting to know each other. Like, at all.

know about Caine fit on one hand. One: Murderous instincts. Two: For some reason, he can manifest his wolf outside of his body. Three: His touches feel

sure there’s a

have to explain,"

Because his jaw is doing that tense thing again, and his shoulders have gone rigid, and somehow I’ve managed to offend the most dangerous predator I’ve ever met by not letting

end up back in the hospital," I say quickly. "The

me off,

of anxiety. It’s hard to take

Grace." His voice isn’t really softer, but some of the edge is gone. Closer to it than

mortifying if they were watching all this unfold. Sara’s still convinced the Lycan King’s going to eat them all before morning, and his current aura would not help

change the subject before this gets any more

as if shaking off the

might

my lips together. Maybe it’s better to be quiet, before

* * *

not exactly uncomfortable. The distant sound of Bun’s soft breathing from the alcove and

statue-still, his profile sharp against the dim light—all

this worse by staying

and I scrambled away like he was contagious. Mate bond or not, energy drain or not, I’ve

it—this idea of a terrifying Lycan King having hurt feelings—makes my chest

same wall. I don’t touch him—obeying the rule like a good girl—but I’ve closed the gap. Our arms are just inches apart now. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from

doesn’t move away. I don’t

Pack

toward him, suddenly alert. This is it—he’s finally answering my first question

"Strange how?"

long I think maybe he didn’t hear me, but then his hands clench. It’s a subtle movement, but I feel attuned to every last twitch of his muscles,

didn’t seem like a big

is much

be with the man. Want to press myself

inside me keeps

No.

strange connection between us. It’s hazed my brain so

it’s more

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