Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 150: Lyre: Did You F#$% Her?

LYRE

The RV is parked where it should be, easing some of the stress from my shoulders.

Knowing she made it safely and seeing it for myself are two different things.

Sucking in a breath of cooler night air, I tell Aaron, "Take the boys to a motel for the night."

Aaron freezes as he steps out of the vehicle, his shoulders stiffening as he slams the door closed. The night air hangs heavy, charged with something more than just the sound of the generator running, and I look at him with a frown.

"I thought I was staying with you," he says with a sigh, leaning back against the SUV with his arms crossed.

I raise one eyebrow, almost scoffing. Really?

But then I notice it—the slight furrow between his brows, the barely-there flare of his aura shifting from confusion to irritation. He’s trying so hard not to show it, keeping his face neutral except for the one tiny tell.

He’s serious.

Seriously, give a man one orgasm...

"There’s no reason for you to stay with me." My reply is calm and measured. Better to keep things simple.

Maybe he won’t be a great toy after all. His wolfish instincts are already rising, trying to claim me. Possess me as his own.

Not happening.

A beat of silence stretches in the night. Owen’s awake, but doesn’t open the door; he can hear every word, and he seems to have the presence of mind to keep out of this awkward situation.

He already knows things have transpired between us. Angels aren’t nose-blind like other supernaturals in this world.

Aaron’s eyes flick toward the RV, then back to me. I watch his expression dim—just for a second, a flash of hurt crossing his face before it flattens into nothing.

Better to hurt him now, before he gets too serious.

the others," he says finally. "Get

as that. No argument. No questions. Just acquiescence followed by the sound of

gravel road, leaving me alone with my arcana-charged camper and whatever mess waits

countless men bruised by my dismissal over the centuries. It’s

Maybe I’m getting soft.

of the RV door

stands the annoying blockheaded Lycan King, his broad silhouette blocking most of the light from inside.

I stiffen.

scent, wrapped in arcana, and unmistakably intertwined with sex. My lips curl

to kill this

"Where is she?"

resting," Caine replies, his tone clipped and emotionless. Aloof and unburdened by fear as

This piece of shit.

I snark, "Is that what we’re calling

trace of what transpired here while I was gone. This foolish animal king with

couldn’t keep your claws to yourself for a single day?" I ask, the

to it. His tone remains flat, detached. "What happens between me and Grace

to pull at the fabric of reality and show this pup exactly what concern looks like. But I think of the blasted Divinity App, of the restrictions

slapped with another Plausibility Warning here, I might

hour without the power to

I know the asshole wolf can

I stifle the urge to kick him

pulse of dominance, primal and laced with challenge, rolls off him in waves meant

I don’t flinch.

and infinitely older than his bloodline. The pressure

nostrils flare. His jaw tightens. A silent standoff between ancient predators, neither willing

but I’ve been dealing with

you go?" I

Lyre. Stay fucking

says nothing, but his scent