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.

to speak the words aloud. The

my direction. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. "I mean—the Lycan King. Our High Alpha," he corrects himself, sounding a little steadier, even though his eyes are far

I narrow mine.

his sights where they didn’t belong. Grace has been surrounded by too many wolves who think they have a right to her. This pup from her old pack is just one more

lowered his

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

My fist tightens.

of course.

Of course not. My mate would

that pathetic pup

you explode, my

isn’t grumbling and snorting with hackles high in

face between her fingers, squeezing his cheeks until his lips

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

face.

he mumbles

shove and wipes her hands on Jack-Eye’s shirt without

competent Beta—beams like she just proposed

between them. Something I’m

when Grace takes

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

of your most loyal pack

I scowl.

at Thom, who jerks

at intimidation as my lip lifts off my teeth. If she

attention shifts to Jack-Eye, who’s still grinning like an idiot, only a step behind

asks, her voice sharp

toward the RV immediately. "Inside," he says, clearly

I snort.