Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 158: Caine: He’s Besotted

CAINE

If my mate didn’t have so much loyalty to the rainbow-haired witch, I’d kill her on the spot.

She might have magic, but as far as I can tell, her physical combat ability is closer to nil than average. Even magic requires time, and a Lycan is fast. A Lycan King is even faster.

But I keep my hands fisted and force down the instinctive urge to shift, even as Fenris yawns in the back of my head. Are you two done now?

Once he was able to check on Grace, his anger dissipated. It might have something to do with leftover slices of bacon Lyre tossed his way, because even the great Lycan King’s wolf—apparently—is willing to sell his soul for a bit of meat.

Bacon isn’t just any meat, Fenris grumbles.

Lyre turns her back to me, storming toward the SUV. Each step thuds against the ground with fury.

Jack-Eye’s reaction to her is concerning. My Beta’s eyes follow her swaying hips with the same desperate focus of a starving Fenris watching bacon sizzle. There’s no mistaking the look—he’s fucking besotted with the witch.

When isn’t he obsessed with women? the wolf in question mutters with disgust. If it’s a warm hole, he’s there. At least bacon is practical.

I don’t bother responding. I’m too busy mentally cataloging which of these idiots needs a leash the most. At the moment, my own Beta is winning by a landslide.

The witch marches straight toward the Blue Mountain pup, who’s leaning against the vehicle fiddling with his phone. Before he can even look up, she grabs him by the shirt and yanks him half off his feet.

"Where’s your loyalty at?" she snaps, her cat-like eyes narrowed to slits.

Andrew’s eyes go wide with shock. Before he can answer, Thom floats over like this is some kind of romantic comedy instead of a real-life threat, hovering near Lyre’s shoulder with a pathetic look of devotion.

It’s nauseating.

Somehow, the witch has managed to scramble my wizard’s brains.

"I’m loyal to Gra—" the pup stammers.

A low growl rolls out of Fenris, vibrating through my chest and into the air around us.

Grace is mine.

aloud. The dominance blanketing the area says

Lycan King. Our High Alpha,"

I narrow mine.

surrounded by too many wolves who think they have a right to her. This pup from her old pack is just one more problem I’ll need to eliminate if he doesn’t learn his

absence lowered his

sounds like he’s ready to rip the pup’s throat out himself. I think Grace

My fist tightens.

that way, of

My mate would never. She

again, she dated that pathetic pup of

down before you explode, my wolf

grumbling and snorting with

cheeks until

whispers, her voice knife-sharp and clear to my enhanced hearing. "You think

face. I snort. No backbone at

mumbles through compressed

releases him with a shove and wipes her hands on Jack-Eye’s shirt without even looking. He’s nothing more

Beta—beams like she just

Something I’m sure I won’t

later. Maybe when Grace takes a nap with little

out of the pack. No exceptions. I don’t care how long he’s served as my second. I won’t have

of your

I scowl.

gaze does a sweep of the group. She frowns at Thom, who jerks and shrinks back. Then she turns and glares directly

unmoved by her attempt at intimidation as my lip lifts off my teeth. If she wants to start this fight over, I’ll gladly oblige. I’m still pissed at

grinning like

she asks, her voice

the first to answer, pointing toward the RV immediately. "Inside," he says, clearly desperate to hand her off

I snort.