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.

stand, holding a baby while a beautiful blonde woman entertains conversation beside me, and our three other children orbit

and my ego is

it over his head. "Hey, dog! Wanna

off the ground. There are plenty. "Let me do it! I can throw farther than

"Can not!"

so I

"Physics, Sara. It’s physics."

Ron. You know what I

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

stretches with deliberate slowness, and then ambles over to Grace’s feet. The dog plops down

tightens. My eyes

mate. Between my presence, and Fenris, she should be hiding in their camper, unwilling to come out for fear of being hunted

just a woman. My woman. The

I have to fight back the urge

you!"

at the retriever, reaching to scratch

when I catch it—the barest flicker of something in the dog’s

Fuck this mutt.

the retriever, lips pulled back to expose teeth the size of steak knives. His growl vibrates even the

Grace stumbles backward. "Fenris!"

she scrambles behind Jer and Sara. Within seconds, the dog transforms

onto his haunches directly in front of Grace. He licks his chops with deliberate slowness, curling

Show-off.

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

with my suspicion bubbling

not a normal dog, Fenris says in my head, his mental voice dripping with disdain. But

the retriever, now peeking from behind Sara’s legs

a kid could see there’s no animosity there, I reply dryly. What amazing

head toward me, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. The old man notices,

are some impressive canines," he says, his eyes widening as he leans in close.

wolf preens, raising his head a little higher. "Oh, he’s, uh, a rescue. A

mutt? The ancestral

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

You will not

to keep my face neutral. Apparently

she. After all I... a mutt?