Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 94: Grace: Choice

His face—ah, his face. It’s like watching a fortress wall crack in real time. Something vulnerable and raw flashes behind those storm-gray eyes before his expression hardens again. My words have genuinely blindsided him.

"Feasible," he echoes. He looks as if he’s hearing the word for the first time.

I shift again. Both buttcheeks have lost feeling, but I still don’t want to interrupt Bun’s sleep. "Yeah. You know—long-term. Values. Morals. Views of the future."

"You’re questioning whether to accept the mate bond." His voice drops an octave, rougher around the edges. Not threatening, but definitely unsettled.

"No. I’ve accepted it—"

"Have you?"

"I’m not denying it. I’m just asking for more. This isn’t just about some mystical connection, Caine. It’s about two people with separate lives figuring out if they’re compatible."

His laugh is short and harsh. "Compatibility is irrelevant. The bond doesn’t make mistakes."

"Maybe not for shifters," I counter. "But I’m human. And humans don’t typically commit our entire futures to someone we’ve known for less than a week."

Bun stirs against me, her tiny nose scrunching up before settling back down. I lower my voice further.

"I want to get to know you," I continue. "The real you—not just the Lycan King or the guy who can make my body feel things I didn’t know were possible. Not as the man who killed people I’ve known for years. I want to know Caine so well I can judge what you’re thinking just by the way the skin wrinkles at the corner of your eyes, or how your lips curve up or down. If we don’t have that, is it really a relationship at all?"

Caine rubs a hand over his face, frustration radiating from him. "You speak as if we’re strangers deciding whether to date."

I mean—aren’t we?

It’s hard to understand why he thinks we’re not.

possessive and lethal, what do

to me. "I’ve been trying to picture it," he admits, and the vulnerability in his tone

my lip.

darkens, I’ve said the very,

at night, what you dream about when you’re

things. But admitting

emotions—disappointment warring with confusion,

rejecting me," he says, sounding

wrong way. "That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I need to actually know

muscles tensing. "You know

And you

know your scent. I know how you breathe when you’re rattled. You keep picking at your thumb when you’re nervous,

cuticle; I’d broken the habit years ago, but I guess it’s come back. "Okay—but what’s my favorite color? Favorite

or not knowing changes

aren’t trivial things, Caine. They’re the foundation

think wolves court like humans," he says

lot more than that. I very specifically pointed out it’s more than

saying I think we need something

gaze drops to Bun again, and I see the calculation happening behind those storm-cloud eyes. "You’ve already accepted this child

"That’s different."

"Is it?"

I insist. "She’s innocent

connection to her," he finishes. "An immediate, unquestionable bond that told

has a