Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 168

(168 Lyre: Separated, Again

168 Lyre: Separated, Again

LYRE

Watching my camper leave without me is a strange feeling. I’m more attached to it than entire castles I’ve had built in the past.

Every girl dreams of a castle.

It just turns out my favorite one is shaped like a box and gets dragged behind a truck.

A warm weight settles against my waist, and something inside me twitches, instinctively repulsed by any form of casual, possessive affection.

The offending appendage wrapped around my waist is large and tanned. A working hand. A fighter’s hand. A hand with no business settling on my waist like it belongs there.

“You okay?” Aaron murmurs, leaning down so his breath is hot against my ear.

“That depends. Are you particularly attached to this hand?” 1

He pulls back immediately, the warmth vanishing.

Smart.

“I was just checking on you,” he says, keeping a careful half–an–arm’s–length distance.

“You seem worried.”

“I’m fine.” Do I look like I need babysitting? I know my fancy Korean facial creams make my skin glow, but it isn’t as if I’m as young as I look.

Thankfully.

Because then I’d be a sentient pile of dirt.

I pop the trunk of our SUV and toss my bag in, and Thom pops out of the backseat to follow at my elbow like a lovesick puppy.

“Lyre, I’ve been thinking about how we might approach the tracking when we-”

“Get in the backseat, wizard.”

16-20

1/5

168 Lyre: Separated, Again

He blinks through his ridiculous copper–wired glasses. “I–but I thought we should

“Backseat.”

He deflates and shuffles back to the rear door, now a kicked lovesick puppy.

I sigh.

Managing these men is going to be awful. 2

Sliding into the front passenger seat before Aaron can even think about it, I click my seatbelt into place and stare at the side of Owen’s face. “Your place first, right?”

Aaron’s left to go in the back, where he crams his tall frame behind Owen’s seat. He looks like he’s considering various methods of angelic decapitation. Behind the driver is the worst spot for someone his size, but it isn’t my fault he didn’t get in the car before the wizard. 1

Owen starts the engine without another word.

“So, where the hell are we going?” Aaron asks, his knee knocking against the back of Owen’s seat in what I suspect is a completely intentional move.

The angel–descendant doesn’t react. He probably has the patience of a saint.

“I can begin tracking now,” Thom pipes up, poking his head between us as he leans forward. “I still have the energy from our-” His cheeks flush as he looks at me out of the side of his eye. “From before.”

“Sit back, wizard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Even without looking, I know Aaron’s grinding his molars against each other.

“We’re not tracking yet,” I announce. “We’re going to Owen’s place first.”

“The cave? Why?” This time the Lycan’s the one to lean forward and shove his face in my space, and I press my palm against it to push him back.

He doesn’t budge, and his tongue flicks out against my palm.

Refusing to lose, I infuse the faintest hint of arcana into my arm and shove again. He jerks back, his head slamming against the headrest.

108 Lyra: Separated. Again

“I need to collect my vehicle before we leave, Owen says, unfazed by the wolfs shenanigans. His silver–gray eyes remain fixed on the road, as calmly as if he were announcing the weather.

I twist in my seat to look back, an eyebrow arching. He’s prodding at his nose gingerly, checking for damage. A drop of blood beads at one nostril.

I don’t bother with arcana this time. A simple palm against his forehead is enough to send him flopping back into his seat. His copper–wired glasses go askew, and he looks up at the car’s ceiling with a dazed expression.

168 Lyre: Soparatod, Again

“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron drawls from the backseat, no longer nasally. See? He’s fine,

Before I can appreciate his momentary compliance, he lunges to lean into the exact space I’d just visually cordoned off, close enough for his breath to brush my ear. He whispers, “You’re hot when you get strict. Can we try a librarian roleplay next time?” The urge to elbow him in the throat is almost overwhelming. Instead, I shove at his face with tiny burst of arcana. He curses as he flops back again.

“Damn. I think it’s broken this time. You know that can kill a lesser man, right?”

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