Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia
Chapter 168
Chapter 168: Lyre: Separated, Again
LYRE
Watching my camper leave without me is a strange feeling. I’m more attached to it than entire castles I’ve had built in the past.
Every girl dreams of a castle.
It just turns out my favorite one is shaped like a box and gets dragged behind a truck.
A warm weight settles against my waist, and something inside me twitches, instinctively repulsed by any form of casual, possessive affection.
The offending appendage wrapped around my waist is large and tanned. A working hand. A fighter’s hand. A hand with no business settling on my waist like it belongs there.
"You okay?" Aaron murmurs, leaning down so his breath is hot against my ear.
"That depends. Are you particularly attached to this hand?"
He pulls back immediately, the warmth vanishing.
Smart.
"I was just checking on you," he says, keeping a careful half-an-arm’s-length distance. "You seem worried."
"I’m fine." Do I look like I need babysitting? I know my fancy Korean facial creams make my skin glow, but it isn’t as if I’m as young as I look.
Thankfully.
Because then I’d be a sentient pile of dirt.
I pop the trunk of our SUV and toss my bag in, and Thom pops out of the backseat to follow at my elbow like a lovesick puppy.
"Lyre, I’ve been thinking about how we might approach the tracking when we—"
"Get in the backseat, wizard."
He blinks through his ridiculous copper-wired glasses. "I—but I thought we should—"
"Backseat."
to the
I sigh.
men is going
even think about it, I click my seatbelt into
he crams his tall frame behind Owen’s seat. He looks like he’s considering various methods of angelic decapitation. Behind the driver is the worst spot for someone his size, but it isn’t my fault he didn’t get in the car
engine
where the hell are we going?" Aaron asks, his knee knocking against the back of Owen’s seat in what
doesn’t react. He probably
can begin tracking now," Thom pipes up, poking his head between us as he leans forward. "I still have the energy from our—" His cheeks flush as he looks at me out of the
"Sit back, wizard."
"Yes, ma’am."
looking, I know Aaron’s grinding
not tracking yet," I announce. "We’re going to Owen’s place
to lean forward and shove his face in my space, and I press
doesn’t budge, and his tongue flicks
lose, I infuse the faintest hint of arcana into my arm and shove again. He jerks back, his head
Oops.
leave," Owen says, unfazed by the wolf’s shenanigans. His silver-gray eyes remain fixed
clear skies. For
from behind me, the word
an eyebrow arching. He’s prodding at his nose gingerly, checking for damage. A drop of blood beads
Again: oops.
concerned. Wolves heal
was a hell of a push, though. Do we have paper towels in here? Napkins? Baby
of napkins of various colors and types, and I toss a few at him. They flutter in the air, and he snatches one
tells him, his voice wavering a little with his sudden and random bravado. His glasses
bother with arcana this time. A simple palm against his forehead is enough to send him flopping back into his seat. His copper-wired glasses go askew, and
no way he’s hurt, which
The ones who always
No, thanks.
and mine. "See this? This is a no-person zone. Stay the fuck out of my personal bubble,
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