Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 183: Lyre: Do You Sense It?

LYRE

The moment we hit the Fiddleback subdivision, the arcana changes. It’s darker, but strangely clean despite the undercurrent of blood magic seeping the land.

I notice the house before Jack-Eye points it out, because it glows like a beacon of bright arcana.

"That’s where they had us stay," he says, as expected.

On the outside, it looks no different from the others. I’m sure the wolves wouldn’t be able to sense how unique this particular domicile is. Perhaps even Fiddleback didn’t know.

The moment we enter, the smell hits. It’s not a physical scent—nothing the wolves would notice. But it’s like a lingering odor clinging to the threads of arcana, mixed with sweat, wolf musk, and the unmistakable residue of werewolf sex.

One scent stands out with embarrassing clarity.

I glance at Aaron from the corner of my eye. "You worked hard."

The flush crawls up his neck like wildfire, starting below his collar and racing across his cheeks. He scratches at his head, fingers tangling in his red hair.

"I was—" he starts.

I wave a dismissive hand, already uninterested in his explanation before it begins. Something else has caught my attention.

"Owen," I say, cutting Aaron off mid-stammer. "Do you sense it?"

The angel-descendant’s silver eyes narrow, his jaw tightening as he gives a single, grim nod. "Yes."

"Sense what?" Aaron looks between us as the blush slowly recedes. "What are you talking about?"

Owen just smacks him on the shoulder and moves deeper into the house, methodically checking rooms.

with a scowl. "What the hell was

stairs, not bothering to explain or see

follows. I’m sure he’s trying to think up a way to explain

reconnaissance," he mutters behind me. "Getting close to potential informants is

my interest. This isn’t new

"Mmm."

me closer to the source of that strange energy signature. It’s too orderly, too perfect—like someone took the chaotic weave of reality and combed

check each room systematically, but the house is empty of

third bedroom, the signature pulses stronger. The room reeks of Aaron and a wolf—female, young, fertile.

clears his throat awkwardly. "There was nothing serious

to stare at him, genuinely surprised by the comment. "Why would there

be disappointment. He really thought I cared about his little werewolf

too troublesome and gives him too much hope, so I don’t. We can always settle it later, if it comes

Priorities matter.

to the room, extending my senses beyond the physical as I inspect the threads of

I murmur. "But why didn’t he sense it before? Another

head into the room, his silver eyes

twist

room without focusing on anything physical. I recognize the look—he’s

me, his body radiating heat. It’s annoying how he does that—inserts himself into my space like he belongs there. But I

times," Owen says calmly, though his words are rougher than normal. Betrayal does that, though. His fists are tight, his back

manipulated, but there’s no way to tell how long it’s been this way, or how

isn’t impossible. Unlikely, though. Especially in

are you talking about?" Aaron interrupts, his breath tickling my ear. as he gets even closer. "What’s

his scent is getting on my nerves, especially

I tell