Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 198

Chapter 198: Grace: No Effect on Her Chastity

"Fascination with the banal has never been one of my vices," Caeriel says, sounding displeased and... snooty.

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."

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 don’t like him.

He doesn’t seem like a good person.

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...

Then again, he might do it to someone else.

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

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

"Rest assured, any favors would have no effect on your chastity."

Then he looks at me with faint disgust, his eyes going from my head to my toes in one smooth, dismissive flick.

Well, excuse me for reading his strangely intent aura wrong.

I cross my arms over my chest, my fingers digging into my arms as I mutter, "I don’t think we’re close enough for favors, though."

His lips twist, then tighten into a thin line, and his silver eyes narrow slightly.

"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.

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.

This man’s got obsession written all over him.

"Who?" I ask, playing stupid.

"Lyrielle."

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.

If he wasn’t a pale-skinned emo Grim Reaper, I’d imagine him with greased-back hair and a smarmy smile.

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.

"Tell me exactly what Lyrielle has said," he demands, his voice quiet but carrying an unmistakable command. "Every inflection. Every syllable."

His eyes meet mine with unshakable fervor, and no matter how I try to drag my gaze away, I can’t.

A cold shiver runs down my spine.

My throat tightens.

"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."

The countdown is over. I’ve fulfilled whatever bizarre obligation this app demanded. And somewhere not far behind me, there are shifters probably still hunting me.

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.

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.

His perfect features arrange themselves into a scowl. "Answer my questions first."

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.

The parking lot remains empty. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

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

I open my mouth to argue, but the sound of footsteps cuts me off. Multiple sets, moving fast. Getting closer.

Funny, I don’t think my hearing’s ever been quite this acute before.

Caeriel tilts his head, listening. "Three of them. The black-haired female is leading." He sounds almost bored. "She’s quite angry."

"How do you—"

"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?"

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

The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Fascinating."

The footsteps get louder.

I need to move, now.

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

My choice is already made as I turn and bolt.

"You’ll call for me," he says, his voice carrying easily despite its softness. "Sooner than you think."

What a creep.

But I have more immediate problems.