Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 25

25 Grace: Changing Overnight

The bodies are gone, leaving only a large, dark stain on the ground.

The sight is enough to bring me back to my senses, though. The moment I walked into Caine’s

suite, my

brain was scrambled. There’s only one thing I can pinpoint as the cause of my strange behavior: The man is just too attractive.

It’s stupid. I know it’s a stupid reason. But…

God. Was I always this type of person?

The window is cool and soothing as I rest my forehead against it, my sigh deep enough to wilt my entire body. I always considered myself a good person, someone with morals and loyalty.

My head thuds against the glass again. What kind of person am I becoming? Alpha’s blood stains the ground below, yet here I stand, thinking about the way Caine’s fingers felt against my skin.

“You’re disgusting,” I mumble to myself, shuddering at my lack of humanity.

This pack helped raise me. Fed me. Gave me a home when I had none. Sure, they cast me aside the moment I proved useless, but still–they were my family for years.

I press my palm flat against the cold window. The chill helps clear my head, but not enough. My thoughts keep drifting to steel–gray eyes and calloused fingers, sending tingles through my body.

“Stop it, Grace.” I smack my forehead against the glass again. It’s oddly comforting. “He’s a

murderer. A monster”

But my traitorous mind replays how gentle his touch was while wrapping my wrist. How his presence made me feel safe despite everything he’s done. How he fed me, even if he seemed

irritated about it.

What’s wrong with me? The pack members who died have families. Children who’ll grow up without parents. Mates left alone. And here I am, swooning over their killer like some deranged

groupie.

My breath fogs the glass as I keep muttering to myself. “I’m going straight to hell. The deepest circle, where they keep the worst of the worst. Even Satan is judging me right now.”

The strange part is how removed I feel from all this death. Like watching a movie instead of living through a massacre. Shouldn’t I be crying? Screaming? Something other than thinking about the way Caine’s jaw clenches when he’s angry? And maybe, just maybe, not paying any attention to the tiny corner of my brain that almost feels smug someone stood up to Alpha when he was so cruel to me.

Now that I acknowledge the feeling, it grows a little, stabbing holes into my conscience. It doesn’t care about the dead people, it’s primally satisfied the Lycan King stood up for me.

My

25 Grace: Changing Overnight

stomach churns. This detachment isn’t normal. Neither is this pull toward the Lycan King. It’s like my moral compass shattered the moment he walked into my life.

I close my eyes, but that only makes it worse. His face appears in the darkness–those sharp cheekbones, the way his lips curve when he’s amused. My heart speeds up.

“Get it together, Grace.” I dig my nails into my palms until it hurts, irritated with my vapid thoughts. “He killed Alpha. He’s probably killed hundreds of others. The man doesn’t have a

soul.”

But my body doesn’t seem to care about that little detail. Neither does my mind, apparently, since it keeps circling back to him like a moth to flame. Maybe it’s a side effect of his alpha domination. Yeah, this theory makes sense. After all, my morality can’t just change overnight.

My changed morality is even trying to insist he’s not evil, just different. Shifter society doesn’t hold the same standards and morals as humans do, and–no. Unacceptable.

It’s not me who’s changed. This has to be a side effect of his Lycan King–ness. Like a poison to

the mind of humans.

I push off the window and collapse onto my bed with another bone–deep sigh. The mattress feels wrong without my pillow, empty and uncomfortable without a place to rest my head. I roll onto my side, curling into myself.

Where are the new pillows, anyway? Hopefully someone delivers them soon. I still can’t

understand why he would steal mine.

My chest tightens, and I swivel to my other side, facing the wall. This situation is so bizarre. One minute I’m cleaning floors, the next I’m apparently important enough to start a war over. And the so–called king is not helping with his mixed signals, treating me like he cares one second

and like I’m a criminal the next.

“You’re mine.” I mimic his deep voice. “But also my prisoner. But also don’t let anyone touch you. But also stay locked in this room. Pfft. How stupid.” 2

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify