Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 140: Caine: A Rescue Mutt

CAINE

My family.

Two simple words, and they’ve sunk their way deep into my chest, leading me to stand a little straighter. And if my face seems to glow a little, well, sometimes kings glow.

I adjust Bun against my hip, her little body surprisingly heavy for such a small thing, and her screaming suddenly sounds like music instead of a tantrum.

"NOOOOO!" she screams directly into my ear, her entire body rigid with want as she reaches both arms toward the golden retriever. Her shriek could shatter glass, but I just pat her little bottom with a smile.

"DA DA GA! DA DA GA!"

The old couple laugh, delighted by her enthusiasm. I remain smiling faintly, still patting the young child, completely neutral to the assault on my eardrums.

Let them see a man unbothered by a toddler’s tantrum.

Let them see a father.

"She really loves dogs, I guess," Grace explains, her face flushing pink. "I’m so sorry, she isn’t normally like this..."

Bun thrashes against my hold, her tiny little legs kicking my ribs hard enough to bruise a normal man. She’s too strong for a bunny shifter child. "DA DA GA!" she shrieks again.

I tighten my grip just enough. "No, Bun."

My voice carries no heat, no anger—just absolute finality. Kings don’t negotiate with two-year-olds, especially in front of a strange old couple who considers me her father.

Bun’s face crumples like she’s been mortally wounded. Her screams intensify for exactly eight more seconds before she goes completely limp, draping herself across my forearm in theatrical defeat. Her bottom lip pushes out, and her thumb finds its way to her mouth. She fixes the retriever with a look of such profound longing that I almost—almost—feel bad.

But I don’t put her down.

Grace, on the other hand, looks at me like I’m the worst being on this planet for letting her get to this point.

She’s soft. It’s a good thing. Kids need a soft mother.

The old woman’s eyes crinkle with amusement. "Looks like you’ve got your hands full."

I nod, allowing her the smallest smile. My hands are indeed full—with a soulspliced toddler and her chaotic shifting abilities. My arms cradle a child who, only half an hour ago, transformed into something feral and tried to tear her family apart. But beyond that, my chest swells with something dangerously close to pride.

Family.

holding a baby while a beautiful blonde woman entertains conversation beside me,

arms are full, and my ego

picks up a stick, waving it over his head. "Hey,

the ground. There are plenty. "Let me do

"Can not!"

I’m bigger, so I can throw

"Physics, Sara. It’s physics."

Ron. You know what

with surprising force for a seven-year-old, Sadie

deliberate slowness, and then ambles over to Grace’s feet. The dog plops down directly onto them, looking up at her with naked adoration

jaw tightens. My eyes

she should be hiding in their camper, unwilling to come out for fear of being hunted by

if my Grace is a dog whisperer—she’s just a woman. My woman. The same woman this stupid mutt is

I have to fight back

likes you!"

at the retriever, reaching to scratch behind her ear.

something in the dog’s eyes. Something intelligent. Something

Fuck this mutt.

back to expose teeth the size

Grace stumbles backward. "Fenris!"

and Sara.

Grace. He licks his chops with deliberate slowness, curling his tongue around his own muzzle while staring directly at the

Show-off.

over-clean scent of the storm’s aftermath, and it’s back to calming me down. The chaotic energy building inside me recedes

placid. Even with my suspicion bubbling over these old people and

my head, his mental voice dripping with disdain. But it doesn’t seem to have any animosity

stare at the retriever, now peeking from behind Sara’s legs with the most pathetic

animosity there, I reply dryly. What amazing observational skills you have, king

a silent snarl. The old man notices, leaning

says, his eyes widening as he leans in close. "Never seen a

like a deer in headlights, even as my wolf preens, raising his head

into me through our bond. A mutt? The ancestral wolf

eat her in her sleep, Fenris seethes, his mental voice practically vibrating

You will not

Apparently his devotion to Grace ends where his

I... a mutt? She calls me