Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 136: Lyre: Sight

LYRE

More knocks.

The bliss of orgasm has already faded, and Aaron tugs his boxers on swiftly. Thankfully, he isn’t one of those men who’d lay there dazed for hours after even a brief burst of arcana.

The muscle in his jaw ticks as he watches me yank my shirt down over my hips. It barely covers what it needs to—just enough to maintain the illusion of modesty, which has never been my strong suit anyway.

Another sharp knock at the door. Owen has zero patience and even less consideration for what he’s interrupting.

I slide on my panties, ignoring Aaron’s glower as I move toward the door. His possessiveness radiates off him, hot and aura-dense. He looks ready to lunge between me and whoever’s on the other side.

I roll my eyes. As if he has any claim over who sees my body. I could answer the door stark naked if I wanted to.

I don’t, though. Some battles aren’t worth fighting.

When I pull the door open, Owen stands there like judgment incarnate—all broad shoulders and blank expression, exuding an infuriating angelic composure.

"You got it, too?" I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.

He nods once, his silver-gray eyes flickering down to where my shirt stops and my thighs begin. His eyebrows twitch ever so slightly—a microexpression of disapproval he can’t quite suppress.

Typical. Angels are tedious prudes obsessed with other people’s genitals. They’ve got an entire rulebook about who can fuck whom and under what circumstances. Unsanctioned sex with non-Divine-affiliated partners is practically heresy. A "power imbalance," they call it. Morally corrupt. Eternally frowned upon.

Of course, once they do have sex? They’re like fucking bunnies.

Angel sex is divine. Pardon the pun. Definitely would do it again. But the talking... fuck, they’re annoying.

wonder which section of the celestial handbook covers an Echo Witch getting railed by a

say, cutting directly to logistics and

posture shifts minutely. "I can keep

to move fast. But

off the sudden infusion of pure arcana. But it’s unlikely the direction will change much, and Grace and Caine are that

everyone ready. We leave

to Aaron, who’s standing halfway between the bed and bathroom, radiating territorial

down, scanning Grace’s texts

at Owen. "Pretty

dingy motel corridor.

bad he’s an angel. Such a nice

you really staring at another man in front of

turn slowly, arching an eyebrow. "Am I

viciously under his breath, storms into the bathroom, and slams the door hard enough to rattle the cheap artwork

hell

opened the door skimpily dressed, of

predictably territorial. You give them an

behind my eyes, and the world disappears for a heartbeat. My Sight flickers on without permission—a

close. A tension between them that’s more than sexual. Something electric. Dangerous.

uneasy prickles along my spine. The most frustrating part is not knowing when. Could

my forehead, irritation simmering under my skin.

the Divinity App. The

open the messaging

is gonna kick you in the