Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 145: Grace: The Deal with Pillows

I sit upright in bed, glaring at Caine, who clutches my old pillow against his chest like some kind of security blanket. His knuckles are white against the pale cotton, and he’s avoiding my eyes with the dedication of someone who’s been caught doing something deeply embarrassing.

"This one’s more comfortable for you," he says, nodding at the pillow he just slid under my head.

"What is your deal with pillows?" The words snap out of me before I can stop them.

His entire body straightens further. "I don’t have a deal with pillows."

The silence stretches.

And stretches.

He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, rigid and awkward, clutching the damn pillow to his chest.

I sigh, and he immediately asks, "Why are you so angry?"

"I’m not angry." The response is automatic, defensive, and a total lie to my current state of emotions.

He raises an eyebrow, skepticism written across every part of his face, and I wince.

"I’m not," I insist. The truth is, I do think the pillow thing is creepy. Weird. Inexplicable. But saying so would hurt his feelings, and despite how irritated I am in this moment, I don’t actually want to do that.

"No. You’re angry," he says firmly, like he already knows. Which... he isn’t wrong, so he does, but even his certainty grates on my nerves. "You’ve been angry for a while. And I don’t understand what I did wrong."

I groan, pressing my palms against my face. I’m not prepared for this emotional reckoning. Not now. I was still busy pouting and being outraged and hadn’t worked through my feelings completely. The storm left me dizzy and off-kilter, and I was relying on sleep to fix it.

It’s warm in here since we kicked off

going crazy." My voice comes out tiny and pathetic, lowering further into a mumble as I continue, "But every time

me..."

peeking out from behind a curtain of blonde hair I’m still not

is finally looking at me again. His brow is furrowed, eyes serious, the storm-gray of them focused entirely on my face. The intensity of his stare

he says calmly. "Of course I can’t let

"What?"

screeches to a

your energy," he repeats, with the flat

sense. "What are you

her. Bun is fatal to you

My heart twists. "Fatal?"

have been triggered with her shift during the storm. It might be... why

suddenly hurts. A lot. I squeeze both sides of my head together, feeling a little like my skull is trying to split apart. "Are we sure? Maybe I just fainted." I was feeling particularly lethargic and tired, but then again, I did just come out of the hospital... well, was kidnapped out of

talking about Bun. Sweet little baby Bun, who needs hugs and kisses and constant affection. I can’t just not touch her. "This doesn’t make sense. I was just... tired. Exhausted. The storm was weird. I’m not used

"You were dying, Grace."

chills me again. He believes what he’s saying.

I don’t

it a secret and just... just manage me like I’m some kind of invalid? You’ve been treating me like glass, keeping the kids away, doing everything

"Grace."

going to collapse beneath him. By the way it’s dipping, it might. He clears his throat and scoots up a little closer, and the mattress no longer dips. Of course,

surly, and he doesn’t deserve it. This man is trying to protect me, and he’s shown me how far he can go to

fingers brush against the pillow in his arms, and he sighs. "It has some special power over me. Calms me when nothing else has. Keeps my thoughts clear. For the most