Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 209

Chapter 209: Grace: Commando

One tiny jar of applesauce can make an enormous mess.

It’s bathed half the living room, the ceiling, a toddler, and a dog. The cat, miraculously, escaped. Jer and Sara were lucky enough to be on the far side of the room.

One awkward water-conserving shower later is when I realize no one’s kept up with the laundry.

Bun has no clean clothes. Zero. Zilch. She’s now running around naked with a diapered bottom, Ron’s missing, and I’m out of underwear.

"Where’s Ron?"

"Outside," Jer says, fiddling with the TV remote. Now that we’re hooked up to electricity, the RV has full wi-fi access via something-or-another and they’re browsing the TV, arguing on the merits of turtles with access to samurai swords versus kids bitten by radioactive spiders and acquiring superhuman prowess.

"Why is he outside?" I ask sharply, even though it feels a little weird to be upset with a kid barely younger than me. How am I supposed to discipline him? Bend him over my knee and spank him? Yeah, right.

But still, he shouldn’t be outside—

"He’s talking to Caine," Sara continues, snatching the remote from Jer.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"No way."

I peer through the window to check and sure enough, Ron’s sitting on the camper steps. Caine’s in front of him, arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. Is he berating the teenager?

Seems like it.

My first instinct is to bolt outside. Whatever’s happening between them, Ron shouldn’t be facing Caine alone. He might be tall and overly responsible, but he’s still just a kid.

Then an air conditioning-propulsed breeze hits my legs, and I remember my current predicament. No underwear, which is not exactly prime intervention attire.

It’s amazing how much confidence a pair of panties can bring your way. Try walking around in public without them.

If it doesn’t feel any different, kudos to you, but me? I feel naked.

"Jer, Sara, keep an eye on Bun for a second," I call over my shoulder, not waiting for their response.

"We’re busy!" Jer protests, still wrestling with Sara over the remote.

"She’s eating paper," Sara adds casually, not even looking at the toddler.

I whip around to see Bun happily shredding what appears to be tissues, as evidenced by the bright green Kleenex box beside her.

Damn.

"Come on, guys. Watch her. Just—don’t let her choke, okay? Two minutes."

chorus with

into Lyre’s bedroom, shutting the door behind me, desperate to find my last

the

I’d

retriever’s been locked in the shower stall since I rinsed the applesauce off her tail. The bathroom now reeks of

a little longer, girl," I call through the door. "As soon as I find

can sense it. I may not be a professional dog trainer, but this whine definitely says something like Can you hurry up? I’m

fault Bun decided to use applesauce as a projectile

dresser drawers, looking for underwear. My last

has reached crisis levels, and I had no

the

in a day? I’m probably going to end up

is an assortment of lace, silk, and what appears to be something made entirely of straps,

over supernatural disasters and hair dye, but we are absolutely not panty-sharing close. There are boundaries, and that’s definitely one

the final drawer shut with a groan. The few drawers I’ve stolen as my own are nearing levels of apocalyptic—in

to go

which are a size too small and give me serious muffin top syndrome, tug at the crotch area a few times, wishing the spandex percentage was

There’s probably a metaphor for my

wonder if he can smell the absence of panties. I sure as

make

Sadie looks up at me with betrayed eyes, her golden fur still damp thanks to the wrestling match her mini-shower had turned into, but

outside and confront

Her tail droops.

* * *

"Ouch!"

door wide enough

of the door, I find Ron scowling at me, one hand rubbing the back of his head where the door must have connected. His dark eyes narrow with teenage affront, and I

"Sorry..."

to the chaos she’s caused, bounds down the camper

issues," Ron mutters,

thin. Sadie certainly behaves like she’s mine, even if she technically belonged to a pair of

left two dead old people to be discovered by some hapless camper in the future. Granted, they keep

life is weird these

away, but I know him well enough now to read

his face gives it away more than his tense

my throat, I point at the unconscious Lycan several feet away and bring up

toward his unconscious subordinate. Instead, his gaze locks onto mine with

not

anything—I’m not, I swear—but because

Well, let’s be honest.

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