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.

rolls his shoulder with a scowl. "What the hell

the stairs, not bothering to

course, he follows. I’m sure he’s trying to think up a

me. "Getting

he overestimates my interest. This isn’t new information

"Mmm."

the staircase brings 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

the house is empty of personal effects, outside of what the

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

throat awkwardly. "There was nothing

genuinely surprised

be disappointment. He really thought I cared about his

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

Priorities matter.

beyond the physical as I inspect the threads of arcana, perfectly and unnaturally

sense it before? Another in his territory

head into the room, his silver eyes tight

twist down.

focusing on anything physical. I recognize the look—he’s seeing

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

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

but there’s no way to tell how long it’s been this way, or how many people have touched it. And as

isn’t impossible. Unlikely, though. Especially

tickling my ear. as he gets even closer.

scent is getting on my nerves, especially mixed

I