Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 138: Grace: Arms Outstretched

I close my eyes and focus, searching for that spark again. For a moment, there’s nothing but the warmth of his skin, the steady thunder of his heartbeat.

There’s some sort of current between us, pulling something out of me and into him. I can feel it, but seeing it is another matter entirely.

Still, there’s a strange sensation of something tangible, like water pouring through a pipe. Not easy to hold onto, but with some sort of weight and density, if I can somehow reach out and grab it. If I can just concentrate a little harder, push a little more...

It’s right there. I can almost taste it, and it’s strangely sweet and metal at the same time, giving me an almost sickening feeling behind my jaw. My eyes burn behind my eyelids, and my heart squeezes and jumps around, falling out of rhythm.

For one flickering second, I swear I can grasp it, bend it—

Caine jerks his head away.

"No. We’re not doing this." His voice leaves no room for argument, and I swear frost covers my skin over how freaking cold he sounds.

Disorientation has my head spinning, and I bIink hard. It takes a little too long for his face to come into focus, and I wish it stayed out of focus once it gets there. He’s staring at me with a hard, flat expression.

My body’s still primed for a momentum no longer there, like a rollercoaster slamming to a freaking stop midway down the first big hill.

And everything under my skin is unbalanced and off-center, as if a vital piece of my soul’s been disconnected. Dramatic, I know, but it’s hard to explain something you’ve never given words before.

I rub my arms, trying to recapture even a whisper of that sensation, but there’s nothing—just memories of a vague potential he snatched away right at the most important moment, damn it.

"But I was getting somewhere!" Okay. I sound a little childish and maybe not as reliable as I should be, but damn it, I was right there, and he moved, and now he’s saying I can’t try again? Really?

fainted again," he says, arms folded to really hammer in

my eyes, frustration bubbling up hot in

down into a frown and his eyebrows draw together, and I remember the strange dream and the odd way everything felt so tired and heavy right before I closed

"Probably," I add reluctantly.

eyebrow now, thoroughly unimpressed. "That’s not

so close to—" To what? Understanding? Power? I don’t even know what I’m reaching for,

not the guy who just kissed me against my will

might as well be carved from granite. Maybe that’s what I should get him for a birthday. A stone carving of a wolf, saying it

sharp bark cuts through the tension stewing between us, and Caine’s head jerks up as he glowers

from deep in his chest. "I swear, if that damn

just kick people’s dogs, Caine." And he was surprised I might have—for a little bit,

in human skin and storming out the door. The entire camper shakes with

that peculiar after-rain-fresh smell to it, the air

Bun, spotting me from where she’s playing with Sara and Jer, races forward on unsteady legs,

heart melts, and I bend, ready to scoop her up—but Caine moves with

short,

hands reaching for me even as

bounds toward me next, dark curls bouncing. "Grace!

hand on

us, deflating visibly. "Oh. Uh, okay? What’s a generator? Do we get to make a