Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 157: Jack-Eye: Standoff

JACK-EYE

Waves of dominance brush against the SUV as we roll up to the boondocking spot. I kill the engine, but don’t move right away. I’m in no rush to jump into the shitstorm brewing outside.

Lyre and Caine stand about ten feet apart, locked in some kind of standoff. Her rainbow hair seems to catch non-existent wind while he’s rigid and ready to attack.

The pressure wave of their combined power crashes against the car windows.

"This is gonna be great," Andrew mutters. He’s getting pretty mouthy.

I grunt in response. The question is whose side I’m taking when things go nuclear. Loyalty says Caine, but my dick has other ideas, especially with Lyre’s ass so perfectly molded by her jeans.

Owen doesn’t hesitate. The car’s barely stopped when he flings the door open and takes off toward the RV, not even glancing at the supernatural pissing contest. His stride is long, purposeful—a man with his mind on one thing only.

He’s been impatiently waiting for us to get here, to the point of dragging Thom into the shower to wake him up with cold water. The concept of lazing about until five minutes before check-out was denied with a flat stare and a grunt.

"Priorities, huh." I watch him disappear inside, wondering how it feels to have kids to worry about.

I wonder what Lyre’s natural hair color is...

"Are we coming with you?" Andrew asks, interrupting my happy thoughts.

I sigh.

"Yeah."

Whatever Caine and Lyre are fighting about—

way to

and saunter toward them, hands in pockets, forcing casual confidence. The air between them practically

be recording this for posterity," I call out, "or are

snaps toward me, a growl

dangerously. She’s not amused,

Wrong time. Message received.

like Grace was in the center of it again. No surprise there; Caine seems to lose

jeans, but not as hot as her naked yesterday. "Sometimes you’re just going to have to butt out of a situation. That

"Words are useful, Lyre."

who knows how to use words." Her tone

holding back. The man’s

he was calmer once. A long time

rainbow-haired witch looks up at the sky, pressing her lips together. For

of the area ceases to exist, settling the prickling hairs on

it," Caine announces, finally letting

man with whatever strange power she possesses, or if Caine’s actually respecting the woman standing

you dare pressure her

shivers and compresses. Dominance radiates off both of them in waves—Caine’s familiar, roiling and wolfish, pressing down like gravity, but Lyre’s... hers feels different. Ancient. Like standing at the edge of a storm

fuck they’re actually arguing about since I’ll probably need to pick a side

A dreamy voice

to see Thom hovering nearby, looking like he just stumbled out of some magical trance. His eyes are fixed on Lyre with abject devotion, and my stomach curdles at the sight. The way he stares at her—like she’s the moon and he’s nothing but a helpless tide—makes my fingers

struggle to keep my own in check. Letting out a little dominance around your already-agitated alpha is a great way

name

we should be neutering wizards instead of