Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 51
Chapter 51: Grace: Charity
Caine doesn’t acknowledge Lyre’s words, his stormy eyes never leaving my face. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel stripped bare, as though he’s peeling away layers I didn’t even know I had.
Then there’s my body.
The stupid thing wants to wrap itself around him until his smell seeps into my skin, deep enough it can never be scrubbed away. To lick his neck and see what he tastes like. To put my mouth—
Damn it, my mind’s going haywire.
Stupid body. Stupid cologne-ad smell. Stupid sexy werewolf.
“Come on, boss.” Jack-Eye claps a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s give the ladies their beauty sleep.”
Suddenly, I like Caine’s beta very much. What a reasonable, thoughtful man.
Andrew remains awkwardly positioned on the ground; he hasn’t twitched a muscle this entire time, and no one seems concerned about helping him up. To be fair, I wasn’t, either. Knowing he’s alive is good enough; I’m not interested in taking him in as a friend and making sure he’s happy or anything. I just didn’t want his death on my hands.
Backing away, I mount the first step to Lyre’s camper. Caine’s eyes track the movement, his body tensing as if to follow, and I narrow my eyes.
I climb the second step, still ascending backwards. He hasn’t moved, but his fists clench at his sides.
“Turn around,” he says roughly, scowling once again. “You’re going to fall.”
Hmm. Telling him I’m going backward because I want to make sure he isn’t following probably won’t go over very well. Frowning, I do as commanded, but pause to cautiously peek over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved, and he’s still glowering at me like I’m doing something wrong.
The third step puts me at the threshold. When I look back for the last time, I swear, Caine stands like a statue, tall and immovable in the darkness.
A cold knot forms in my stomach as I step through the doorway. It feels like turning my back on someone who wants to eat me.
The camper is warmer and less humid than outside. A little safer, too. But the illusion shatters when something large brushes past my legs. I yelp, spinning around to find Fenris already making himself comfortable on the tiny patch of floor in front of the refrigerator.
“Excuse me?” I sputter, flabbergasted by his audacity. “I didn’t invite you in.”
Lyre is the last to step inside, frowning at the wolf. “Neither did I.”
The massive wolf blinks at me, his gray eyes almost amused, then deliberately lowers his head onto his paws.
“Oh no, you can’t stay here.” I point toward the door. “Out. Now.”
Fenris doesn’t budge.
“He’s the size of a miniature pony,” Lyre observes from the doorway, her slitted eyes taking in the scene. “Where exactly do you think we’ll put him?”
I glare at the wolf. “Outside, with his master. Go on. Shoo.”
Fenris huffs and closes his eyes.
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere.” Lyre steps inside, closing and locking the door behind her. Before it closes completely, I catch a glimpse of Caine’s rigid posture, still watching the camper like a hawk.
“Wonderful. Just what we needed—a spy.” I rub my temples where a headache begins to throb. “You realize he’s going to report everything back to Caine, right?”
Lyre shrugs, stepping over Fenris’s massive form to reach the sink. “Maybe. Or maybe he has his own agenda.” She fills a glass with water and hands it to me. “Drink. You look like you might pass out.”
I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth was until the cool liquid touched my lips. I drain the glass in one go, guzzling it down like I’ve ran a marathon in a desert. The emotional strain of the last half hour feels equal to the experience, anyway.
“You’re so calm,” I mutter as Lyre takes my empty glass. “Is it normal for you to have werewolves crash at your place?”
“Fine. But you are notsleeping in my bed. Stay on the floor. I don’t want fur all over my sheets.”
Verify captcha to read the contentNew Chapters
Reading History
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia)