Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 198

198 Grace: No Effect on Her Chastity

198 Grace: No Effect on Her Chastity

My choice is already made as I turn and bolt.

“Death follows anger like a faithful hound.” His eyes slide back to mine, and this time I can’t look away. “Her anger toward you is especially potent. What did you do to her, I

wonder?”

I eye him warily, trying not to let my unease show too plainly on my face. My pulse quickens as Caeriel takes a deliberate step forward, and the air grows even denser, making it impossible to breathe through my nose.

It takes a little longer than I’d like to admit for his insults to pierce through the haze of confusion over meeting a Grim Reaper (with a phone!) in an abandoned parking lot, but once it does, I frown in his direction. “Maybe ask for favors less creepily, then.”

My stomach drops. No, thank you.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Fascinating.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine.

The footsteps get louder.

Still, something in my gut insists Caeriel is bad news bears, and I have no interest in becoming friends with the man.

Then again, he might do it to someone else.

He chuckles, but the sound just sends slivers of ice through my sluggishly–working veins. “You don’t have a choice. You can’t complete this mission without me. But I’ll let you run for now, scared little girl. It looks like your friends are searching for you.”

“Lyrielle.”

He doesn’t seem like a good person.

This man can probably kill me with a flick of his wrist, but somehow I can’t help the snark coming out of me every time I talk.

I clear my throat, refusing to meet his stare again. I’m a little worried it’ll be impossible to look away if I do. “Checking the mission parameters. And nowhere does it say I have

198 Grace: No Effect on Her Chastity

to answer personal questions just because you want me to. In fact, my mission’s complete. Done. Finished. Which means I can leave.”

This man’s got obsession written all over him.

Caeriel rubs a slender, pale finger against his forehead as he lets out a calm, distinctly condescending sigh.

“Nice to meet you. Let’s not do it again.”

Somehow I’m able to look away this time, and I make a whole show out of checking my phone, my fingers trembling as I swipe through random screens. Maybe if I look busy enough, he’ll get the hint.

“There’s no rush to leave,” he says, still calm. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“Did she tell you about me?” His voice drops lower, and the intensity of his presence increases. A familiar oppression makes it hard to breathe in the suddenly thick air.

“No,” he agrees pleasantly. “But you’ll need my help eventually. Divinity doesn’t make mistakes with its assignments.”

The way he says her name is gross, too familiar and foreign. There’s a strange accent in the way he says it, not like how I read it in my head, and the way he practically purrs

it? No way.

“Existed,” I mutter, taking another step back as my eyes frantically scan for my best exit strategy. “That’s usually enough.”

I need to move, now.

And I really hope he isn’t Lyre’s friend, because we might have to have a small chat about who she keeps around her. I know she isn’t super fond of Caine, but at least Caine wouldn’t make me run to meet him and then make me leave…

Son of a bitch. This must mean Ellie and her goons have caught up.

I want to ask a lot of questions about his outfit and the scythe, but it’s clear distance is the better part of life and valor here.

The way he says it–like he’s giving me permission, like I need it–sparks something hot and angry in my chest. I lift my chin, even as I take several hasty steps backward. “I don’t need your permission to leave.”

198 Grace: No Effect on Her Chastity

The last thing I need is to linger here with someone with an ambiguous connection to the most powerful person I know. Especially in an abandoned parking lot. When he has a giant fucking scythe.

The hairs on my arms stand up and my stomach twists. Warning signals go off in every corner of my brain. Yeah. This is definitely the guy Lyre didn’t want to talk about, and I’m kind of starting to see why.

“Tell me exactly what Lyrielle has said,” he demands, his voice quiet but carrying an

“Didn’t you say I can leave?” I manage, even if the words come out in little more than a squeak. “I think I’ll leave now.”

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