Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Grace: Demand for Answers

From the way Alpha’s glaring at me, I’m pretty sure he wants me dead. Well, living isn’t all that great right now.

The Lycan King looks at me again. “Answer the question, human.”

But my panicked brain can’t quite recall what it was. Averting my gaze from his intense gray eyes, my eyes dart around the room, flinching away from Alpha’s glower.

Instead, I look at the Lycans sitting at the table. One of them has fiery red hair and freckles all over his cheeks, and he leans his elbows on the table, smiling faintly when our eyes meet. Out of everyone waiting for me to speak, he’s the only one who seems remotely approachable.

It gives me a tiny boost of courage, enough to take a deep breath and remember the question posed to me. “My biological parents were killed six years ago. Alpha…” My words falter as gray eyes flash, and an instinctive part of my brain insists he doesn’t like me using my adoptive father’s title, even if it doesn’t make much sense. What else are you supposed to call your pack alpha? “Um, Alpha Brax came three days later, saying he was a family friend, and adopted me as his daughter. I’ve lived as his daughter for six years.”

Alpha slams his fist on the table again. “Lying cunt!”

The explosive sound has me jumping back a step, and I focus on the Lycan King and his strange tattoos. It’s easier than looking at his eyes, stormy yet cold. His winter storm temperament is easier to weather than Alpha’s fury, though.

“Go on,” the royal in front of me says, his Adam’s apple moving as he talks. One of his tattoos stretches and moves lazily along, as if it’s noticed me watching. Impossible, of course, but at least it gives my brain something to latch onto that isn’t… terrifying.

Then again, the man’s my kidnapper. He could be the worse option.

“For six years, I was known as the alpha’s adopted human daughter—”

A sigh. “You already said this.”

“Um.” Licking my dry lips, I dare to glance up.

The Lycan King seems to have lost interest in my words, glancing instead to the red-haired Lycan at the table. But this is my chance to set the record straight, and I need to take it. “In that time, I developed a friendship with someone in the pack, and it turned into a relationship. I suppose it could be considered inappropriate, as I am only human. But that isn’t why I ran, sir.” Wait, how do you address wolf royalty? “Uh, Your Majesty.”

Soft snickers ripple through the crowd behind me; I must have chosen wrong. My cheeks burn, but the sound dies instantly as the Lycan King’s hand rises, quelling the laughter.

“Um.” Another lick of my dry lips; my mouth is parched, my throat sore now from talking without a drop of water. “I was drugged, I think, and thrown into the forest during the Mate Hunt. I don’t remember how I got there, and woke up alone.”

Wood splinters. The table cracks in two as Alpha’s fist connects with its surface. Chunks of polished oak scatter across the marble floor. “Enough with your lies!”

A roar rips through the room, making my bones vibrate. “Sit, Brax!” The Lycan King’s voice drops to a deadly whisper. “Or I’ll take this as a challenge to my authority.”

Alpha’s chest heaves. Veins pop on his neck as he glares at the king. One heartbeat. Two. Three. But he submits, shoulders slumping as he drops back into his chair.

The red-haired Lycan’s lips twitch. He kicks the table away and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he watches, like it’s dinner theater.

“Continue your damn story.” The king’s words crack like a whip, this time at me.

“I—” My throat closes up. “I found out that my mother was once Alpha’s mate.” Whispers. A lot of whispers, and gasps too; I guess not everyone knew. “He thought I was his daughter, but I’m not. Just human. When I didn’t shift, he—” My voice cracks, despite trying to keep it steady. “He, um, threw me out and sent me to work at the omega lodge.”

A peek at the Lycan King’s face tells me nothing. Does he believe me, or not?

The words are sour and stuffy in my mouth, hard to push out, but somehow I manage to admit, “I left because there’s no place for me here anymore. The pack sees me as less than nothing, so I ran. I want to go back to live as a human, with humans.”

My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry, blinking as fast as I can to keep them at bay.

His hand snaps out, fingers locking around my throat, and my heart slams against my ribs. Not again. The room spins. Why is it always the throat? Is strangulation something that speaks to their more primal side?

Very easily.

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