Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 138

Chapter 138: Grace: Arms Outstretched

I close my eyes and focus, searching for that spark again. For a moment, there’s nothing but the warmth of his skin, the steady thunder of his heartbeat.

There’s some sort of current between us, pulling something out of me and into him. I can feel it, but seeing it is another matter entirely.

Still, there’s a strange sensation of something tangible, like water pouring through a pipe. Not easy to hold onto, but with some sort of weight and density, if I can somehow reach out and grab it. If I can just concentrate a little harder, push a little more…

It’s right there. I can almost taste it, and it’s strangely sweet and metal at the same time, giving me an almost sickening feeling behind my jaw. My eyes burn behind my eyelids, and my heart squeezes and jumps around, falling out of rhythm.

For one flickering second, I swear I can grasp it, bend it—

Caine jerks his head away.

“No. We’re not doing this.” His voice leaves no room for argument, and I swear frost covers my skin over how freaking cold he sounds.

Disorientation has my head spinning, and I bIink hard. It takes a little too long for his face to come into focus, and I wish it stayed out of focus once it gets there. He’s staring at me with a hard, flat expression.

My body’s still primed for a momentum no longer there, like a rollercoaster slamming to a freaking stop midway down the first big hill.

And everything under my skin is unbalanced and off-center, as if a vital piece of my soul’s been disconnected. Dramatic, I know, but it’s hard to explain something you’ve never given words before.

I rub my arms, trying to recapture even a whisper of that sensation, but there’s nothing—just memories of a vague potential he snatched away right at the most important moment, damn it.

“But I was getting somewhere!” Okay. I sound a little childish and maybe not as reliable as I should be, but damn it, I was right there, and he moved, and now he’s saying I can’t try again? Really?

“You just fainted again,” he says, arms folded to really hammer in his don’t touch me aura. “I’m not risking it again.”

I roll my eyes, frustration bubbling up hot in my chest. “I didn’t faint. I fell asleep.”

But his mouth curves down into a frown and his eyebrows draw together, and I remember the strange dream and the odd way everything felt so tired and heavy right before I closed my eyes.

“Probably,” I add reluctantly.

“Probably?” Caine raises an eyebrow now, thoroughly unimpressed. “That’s not reassuring.”

“But I was so close to—” To what? Understanding? Power? I don’t even know what I’m reaching for, just… it feels important. Essential, even.

The Lycan King in front of me doesn’t budge. He’s not warm Caine with daddy vibes anymore, not the guy who just kissed me against my will (and made me like it, but we aren’t talking about that little detail). He’s definitely the crowned wolf king at this particular moment, all cold and standoffish.

His expression might as well be carved from granite. Maybe that’s what I should get him for a birthday. A stone carving of a wolf, saying it looks just like him.

A sharp bark cuts through the tension stewing between us, and Caine’s head jerks up as he glowers out the window.

He growls, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “I swear, if that damn dog is back, I’m going to kick it.”

I blink at him, momentarily forgetting my frustration. “You can’t just kick people’s dogs, Caine.” And he was surprised I might have—for a little bit, okay—thought he was a serial killer. Sheesh.

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