Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 149: Grace: No. Nope. Never.

Caine hovers over me, all rippling muscles and heaving chest, his words hanging in the air between us.

"...there’s no rule saying you can’t touch yourself, right?"

My brain dies. Just kaboom, explodes, done-for.

Did he just—? Is he suggesting—?

Wait. What now. Did he just—

He wants to WATCH me?

Heat explodes in my face as my eyes go wide. The suggestion alone sends a traitorous pulse of arousal through me, but it’s instantly swallowed by a tidal wave of utter mortification.

Nope. NO. Never. Not happening.

My thighs may be clenching with need, but my embarrassment screams louder.

"Absolutely not," I splutter, my voice somewhere around ten octaves higher than normal. I’m not even sure if ten octaves exist, but if they do, I’m there, baby. High and freaked out.

I lurch backward on the bed, scrambling like a freshly squashed insect. My legs are noodles, my dignity a corpse. I manage two feet of retreat before vertigo hits like a sucker punch.

"Shit," I mumble, squeezing my eyes shut and willing the spinning to stop. My stomach lurches dangerously, and for a horrifying second, I think I might actually throw up. Yeah. Way to complete this masterpiece of indignity.

Caine’s expression shifts instantly. The heat in his eyes cools, replaced by sharp concern as he takes in my pallor.

"Are you okay?" he demands.

I wave a hand. It might as well be my flag of surrender. "I’m fine... I think. Maybe."

My body can’t decide if it wants to chase the lingering arousal or pass out from overexertion. I’m putting my bets on passing out, because no matter how much throbbing there is between my legs, my body can’t back it up.

I get wolves live inside their masters’ heads, but oh my

sexual

Not cool.

entire bed

cheating at life at this

have touched you," he growls, his voice dripping with

to dial up the

not—" I start

processed any of it. The sex. The magic.

Semen

.

should be gross

when I am one hundred percent the person who

to go, me. I’m an

another growl before standing, and my protests die in my throat as I watch. He adjusts himself, and I wonder vaguely where it’s always hiding. I don’t generally make

makes his tattoos gleam. They’re calm now, no longer moving, and I

find words. What do you say after accidentally choking someone’s dick with magic, especially

away from the bed. "Get some rest,"

"Oh. Um. Okay, but—"

pause as he jerks the

"Wait. Caine—"

Then it closes.

dressed, and now I can’t explain it isn’t his

at once. The golden energy between us is long gone, and it’s left a strange emptiness in me, where even my limbs feel hollow

flop back onto the bed with a dramatic groan, throwing my arm over my eyes. The ceiling

of hysteria. I was mad at him before this. Mad that

Mad.

ridiculous. It’s nice, being taken