Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 158

158 Caine: He’s Besotted

CAINE

If my mate didn’t have so much loyalty to the rainbow–haired witch, I’d kill her on the spot.

She might have magic, but as far as I can tell, her physical combat ability is closer to nil than average. Even magic requires time, and a Lycan is fast. A Lycan King is even faster.

But I keep my hands fisted and force down the instinctive urge to shift, even as Fenris yawns in the back of my head. Are you two done now?

Once he was able to check on Grace, his anger dissipated. It might have something to do with leftover slices of bacon Lyre tossed his way, because even the great Lycan King’s wolf–apparently–is willing to sell his soul for a bit of meat.

Bacon isn’t just any meat, Fenris grumbles. 1

Lyre turns her back to me, storming toward the SUV. Each step thuds against the ground with fury.

Jack–Eye’s reaction to her is concerning. My Beta’s eyes follow her swaying hips with the same desperate focus of a starving Fenris watching bacon sizzle. There’s no mistaking the look–he’s fucking besotted with the witch.

When isn’t he obsessed with women? the wolf in question mutters with disgust. If it’s a warm hole, he’s there. At least bacon is practical.

I don’t bother responding. I’m too busy mentally cataloging which of these idiots needs a leash the most. At the moment, my own Beta is winning by a landslide.

The witch marches straight toward the Blue Mountain pup, who’s leaning against the vehicle fiddling with his phone. Before he can even look up, she grabs him by the shirt and yanks him half off his feet.

“Where’s your loyalty at?” she snaps, her cat–like eyes narrowed to slits.

Andrew’s eyes go wide with shock. Before he can answer, Thom floats over like this is some kind of romantic comedy instead of a real–life threat, hovering near Lyre’s shoulder with a pathetic look of devotion.

12:23

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158 Caine. He’s Besotted

It’s nauseating.

Somehow, the witch has managed to scramble my wizard’s brains.

“I’m loyal to Gra-” the pup stammers.

A low growl rolls out of Fenris, vibrating through my chest and into the air around us.

Grace is mine.

I don’t need to speak the words aloud. The dominance blanketing the area says it for

1. me.

Andrew’s eyes dart in my direction. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “I mean–the Lycan King. Our High Alpha,” he corrects himself, sounding a little steadier, even though his eyes are far too wide.

I narrow mine.

I’d already suspected this one had his sights where they didn’t belong. Grace has been surrounded by too many wolves who think they have a right to her. This pup from her old pack is just one more problem I’ll need to eliminate if he doesn’t learn his place.

His absence lowered his priority level, but now…

Careful, Fenris warns, though he sounds like he’s ready to rip the pup’s throat out

himself. I think Grace likes him.

My fist tightens.

Not that way, of course. She’s ours.

Right. Of course not. My mate would never. She has much better taste.

Then again, she dated that pathetic pup of an Alpha…

Calm down before you explode, my wolf advises.

Like he isn’t grumbling and snorting with hackles high in my head.

Lyre grips Andrew’s face between her fingers, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pucker like a fish, and leans in close.

“If you’re lying, I’ll haunt your dreams and rip your heart out while it’s still beating,” she whispers, her voice knife sharp and clear to my enhanced hearing. “You think toads

12:23

As if you would get rid of your most loyal pack member, Fenris snorts.

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