Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 198: Grace: No Effect on Her Chastity

"Fascination with the banal has never been one of my vices," Caeriel says, sounding displeased and... snooty.

It takes a little longer than I’d like to admit for his insults to pierce through the haze of confusion over meeting a Grim Reaper (with a phone!) in an abandoned parking lot, but once it does, I frown in his direction. "Maybe ask for favors less creepily, then."

This man can probably kill me with a flick of his wrist, but somehow I can’t help the snark coming out of me every time I talk.

I don’t like him.

He doesn’t seem like a good person.

And I really hope he isn’t Lyre’s friend, because we might have to have a small chat about who she keeps around her. I know she isn’t super fond of Caine, but at least Caine wouldn’t make me run to meet him and then make me leave...

Then again, he might do it to someone else.

Still, something in my gut insists Caeriel is bad news bears, and I have no interest in becoming friends with the man.

Caeriel rubs a slender, pale finger against his forehead as he lets out a calm, distinctly condescending sigh.

"Rest assured, any favors would have no effect on your chastity."

Then he looks at me with faint disgust, his eyes going from my head to my toes in one smooth, dismissive flick.

Well, excuse me for reading his strangely intent aura wrong.

I cross my arms over my chest, my fingers digging into my arms as I mutter, "I don’t think we’re close enough for favors, though."

His lips twist, then tighten into a thin line, and his silver eyes narrow slightly.

"Did she tell you about me?" His voice drops lower, and the intensity of his presence increases. A familiar oppression makes it hard to breathe in the suddenly thick air.

The hairs on my arms stand up and my stomach twists. Warning signals go off in every corner of my brain. Yeah. This is definitely the guy Lyre didn’t want to talk about, and I’m kind of starting to see why.

man’s got obsession written all

I ask, playing

"Lyrielle."

is gross, too familiar and foreign. There’s a strange accent in the way he says it, not like how I read it in my

he wasn’t a pale-skinned emo Grim Reaper, I’d imagine

unease show too plainly on my face. My pulse quickens as Caeriel takes a deliberate

demands, his voice

eyes meet mine with unshakable fervor, and no matter how I try to drag my

shiver runs down

My throat tightens.

can leave?" I manage, even if the words come out in little more than a squeak. "I

whatever bizarre obligation this app demanded. And somewhere not

someone with an ambiguous connection to the most powerful person I know. Especially in an abandoned parking lot. When he has

to ask a lot of questions about his outfit and the scythe, but

features arrange themselves into

out of checking my phone, my fingers trembling as

"What are you doing?"

meet his stare again. I’m a little worried it’ll be impossible to look away if I do. "Checking the mission parameters. And nowhere does it say I have to

but I plow ahead before

already taking a step backward. "But I’m busy. A lot to

for every step I take back. Not

calm. "We’ll be spending a lot

stomach drops. No,

blurt out of my mouth with no

might consider a smile—on anyone else. On him, it just looks like he’s studying an interesting bug

the sound just sends slivers of ice through my sluggishly-working veins. "You don’t have a choice. You can’t complete this mission without me. But I’ll let you run for now,

of a bitch. This must mean Ellie and her goons

a glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Ellie

parking lot

knows