Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 142

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142 Grace: Acting Weird

142 Grace: Acting Weird

Caine’s acting weird. Too polite, too friendly, too… everything not–Calne. He’s smiling -not smirking, actually smiling–at the middle children as they dance around the campfire.

The elderly couple, Archie and Doris (we finally introduced each other by name), poke at the massive fire they’ve built in their stone–ringed pit. A smoker sits off to the side, ribs already going inside. Apparently they’ve been going all day.

The smell of them makes my stomach growl, but something about this whole setup just feels… strange.

“This is my brat–dance!” Jer announces, performing some chaotic bounce and wiggle; it

D looks like he’s being electrocuted. Or having a seizure. Or both.

Sara rolls her eyes. “It’s called the floss, dummy. And you’re doing it wrong” She demonstrates with quick, precise arm movements, though her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “See? Arms straight.”

“I’m not a dummy. I just made it better!”

Archie chuckles and shuffles over to join them. “Let me try,” he says, swinging his arms with creaky enthusiasm.

As terrible as it sounds, he makes the dance look like some painful physiotherapy exercise.

It would be charming–sweet, even–if not for how unsettled I feel. I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong exactly, and there’s absolutely no reason to suspect these two sweet old neighbors.

Which means it must be Caine and his bizarre level of friendliness.

“Bun, no!” The man in question bolts after the toddler, who’s wandered dangerously close to the fire for the third time in five minutes. He moves with calculated speed, scooping her up and redirecting her away from the flames.

“No!” Bun shrieks, squirming in his arms.

“No.” His voice is firm, but gentle.

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142 Grace, Acting Weird

He sets her down several feet from the fire pit, and like a heat–seeking missile, she immediately pivots and toddles back toward danger. Caine follows, shadows her movements, redirects again. It’s a dance they’ve been performing since we arrived, and despite his obvious frustration, he hasn’t snapped once.

Bun breaks free from his watchful eye for just a second–long enough to hurl her sippy cup directly into the fire pit.

The plastic immediately starts to melt and smoke. Bun’s face crumples, and she stands in the dirt and wails, face to the sky, like the world’s just ended.

Because she threw her own cup into the fire.

Toddler logic. I’ve vaguely heard of it, but seeing it in action is an entirely different experience.

I lunge forward, but Caine is faster. He crouches by the fire, somehow extracts the half–melted remnant with a stick, and grunts, “It’s fine.” As if retrieving melting plastic from open flames is something he does every day.

Bun sobs louder, her tiny body heaving with the dubious injustice of losing her cup. Sadie ambles over and sniffs curiously at Bun’s bare toes; her shoes have disappeared somewhere, too.

The toddler’s sobs transform into hiccupping giggles.

“See? All better,” Caine murmurs, rubbing her head.

Who is this man, and what has he done with the Lycan King? My heart can’t take it. It’s going to explode if he calls me dear again, like we’ve been married forever or

something.

“Hey, Caine!” Jer yells, waving his arms frantically. “Come on, just try it!”

He seems to have developed an appreciation for the scary man.

Sara, on the other hand, goes absolutely pale, her arms freezing mid–floss as she stares at Jer like he’s just committed suicide. Ron frowns at her, giving the faintest shake of his head.

Yes. We’re supposed to be pretending to be a happy family, but Sara keeps acting like Caine’s about to eat her.

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142 Grace: Acting Weird

Archie claps Caine on the shoulder–actually touches him without permission!-and announces, “It’s more fun than I expected, even if he’s wheezing a little as he says it.

Caine’s face goes statue–still, and I recognize the look. It’s how he looked when he was listening to Alpha Brax babble, right before he lost his temper. This must be the outer limit of his hospitality.

But slowly, with obvious reluctance, Caine lets Archie push him over to the dance group. Jer’s delighted as he chatters instructions, demonstrating the move again with exaggerated motions.

I watch, wide–eyed, as the Lycan King–ruler of all wolf shifters, nightmare of his enemies–attempts to floss. His powerful arms move stiffly, his timing completely off. It’s the most awkward, endearing, terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.

Ron snickers behind his hand, quickly masking it with a cough when Caine glances his

way.

Sara looks absolutely horrified, her hands to her mouth, but she can’t look away, either. A sharp yip draws my attention to the camper. Fenris has cornered Sadie underneath it, his massive form blocking her escape. Bun yanks on his ear, but even so his stance radiates smug wolf superiority as Sadie yelps again and scrambles belly–first into the

dirt.

She’s clearly outclassed by the supernatural wolf, though I doubt she understands exactly why.

Or maybe she does. Though, if she did, you’d think she’d be miles away by now. My list of things that don’t make sense is getting longer by the minute. Doris emerges from their camper with a large tray of raw burger patties and bratwurst The meat glistens in the firelight, and I squint. It looks like there are diced onions.

the patty.