Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 136

Chapter 136: Lyre: Sight

LYRE

More knocks.

The bliss of orgasm has already faded, and Aaron tugs his boxers on swiftly. Thankfully, he isn’t one of those men who’d lay there dazed for hours after even a brief burst of arcana.

The muscle in his jaw ticks as he watches me yank my shirt down over my hips. It barely covers what it needs to—just enough to maintain the illusion of modesty, which has never been my strong suit anyway.

Another sharp knock at the door. Owen has zero patience and even less consideration for what he’s interrupting.

I slide on my panties, ignoring Aaron’s glower as I move toward the door. His possessiveness radiates off him, hot and aura-dense. He looks ready to lunge between me and whoever’s on the other side.

I roll my eyes. As if he has any claim over who sees my body. I could answer the door stark naked if I wanted to.

I don’t, though. Some battles aren’t worth fighting.

When I pull the door open, Owen stands there like judgment incarnate—all broad shoulders and blank expression, exuding an infuriating angelic composure.

“You got it, too?” I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.

He nods once, his silver-gray eyes flickering down to where my shirt stops and my thighs begin. His eyebrows twitch ever so slightly—a microexpression of disapproval he can’t quite suppress.

Typical. Angels are tedious prudes obsessed with other people’s genitals. They’ve got an entire rulebook about who can fuck whom and under what circumstances. Unsanctioned sex with non-Divine-affiliated partners is practically heresy. A “power imbalance,” they call it. Morally corrupt. Eternally frowned upon.

Of course, once they do have sex? They’re like fucking bunnies.

Angel sex is divine. Pardon the pun. Definitely would do it again. But the talking… fuck, they’re annoying.

I wonder which section of the celestial handbook covers an Echo Witch getting railed by a Lycan Beta. Probably an entire appendix devoted to this particular sin.

“Thom still needs sleep,” I say, cutting directly to logistics and ignoring his silent judgment.

Owen’s posture shifts minutely. “I can keep him asleep in the car.”

I pause, weighing our options. With what’s most likely Chaos poking around, we need to move fast. But pushing Thom too hard could burn him out completely—and a drained wizard would be worse than useless.

His tracking is currently unavailable, more or less on pause as he sleeps off the sudden infusion of pure arcana. But it’s unlikely the direction will change much, and Grace and Caine are that way as well.

I nod. “Get everyone ready. We leave in thirty.”

He doesn’t argue, but his eyes dart past me to Aaron, who’s standing halfway between the bed and bathroom, radiating territorial wolf energy.

My phone buzzes in my hand. I glance down, scanning Grace’s texts again. There’s also one from Caine.

I look back up at Owen. “Pretty sure Chaos is in the area.”

He grunts acknowledgment before turning to walk back toward his room. I lean against the doorframe, watching him retreat down the dingy motel corridor. His shoulders roll with each step, the fluid movement of someone who knows exactly what his body is capable of.

Too bad he’s an angel. Such a nice specimen of man.

“Are you really staring at another man in front of me?” Aaron growls, sounding distinctly put out.

[LYRIELLE: You know Balance is gonna kick you in the ass for this, right?]

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