Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Caine: You Can’t Camp Here

CAINE

The Lyre girl’s scent is strange, but I can’t figure it out. Jack-Eye, the idiot, doesn’t seem to mind; then again, he was always partial to women. A little too friendly, a little too willing. Far more gregarious than the typical Lycan.

I glower at Lyre’s camper, fingers digging into the cheap plastic armrests of Andrew’s folding chair. Something about that woman sets my teeth on edge. The rainbow-haired enigma kicked us out the second breakfast was over—for them. She didn’t bat an eye at our half-full plates or still-steaming coffee mugs.

Who does that to the Lycan King? More importantly, who does that to any Lycan without flinching? It’s strange.

Fenris lifts his head; he’s been moping for the past ten minutes, since he was thrown out with us. He didn’t want to leave, but Grace stared at me with her pretty grass-green eyes until I picked him up and took him with me.

My wolf is not happy with me.

She smells wrong, he mutters, apparently willing to converse when we’re talking about a mutual enemy.

“I know.”

No, you don’t understand. I can’t place it. Her scent is… slippery.

The hair on my neck stands up. In over two centuries, I’ve never known Fenris to be unable to categorize a scent, but what he’s saying makes sense. I’ve noticed it, too. It’s more than not knowing what she smells like; it’s as if something’s purposely not allowing us to.

“She’s hiding something,” I say, watching the camper windows for movement. No hint of shadows. What’s Grace doing? Washing dishes? Maybe she’s curled up in bed, kicking her pale legs in the air as she reads a book. “No one takes in a stranger out of kindness. Not in this world.”

She kicked me out, too. After I worked hard to keep Grace company all night.

I raise an eyebrow. “Sleeping arrangements go poorly?”

Grace doesn’t like sharing her bed. Made me sleep on the floor.

My mind floods with an image of Grace in bed—her now-golden hair splayed across a pillow, sheets twisted around her legs, and a stubborn little pout on her lips as she claims the entire mattress. “I’ll just make her like it.”

Fenris’s ears perk up, his massive head swinging toward me. What was that? Are you finally accepting what I’ve been telling you?

The realization of what I said hits me like a brick. I drag a hand down my face with a groan. “No. Stop putting ideas in my head. I’m trying to deal with something important.”

Sounded like you were thinking about sharing a bed with Grace.

“I don’t trust Lyre,” I growl, steering the conversation back. “She’s too comfortable ordering Lycans around. I even let some dominance slip this morning, and she didn’t so much as twitch.” Of course, I only let out the tiniest sliver. Didn’t want to upset Grace. She seems perturbed by my presence as it is.

She’s not afraid of us.

“Exactly.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “And what does she want with Grace? A human girl with no apparent value? No money, no connections—”

Other than you.

Perhaps Lyre knows something we don’t. About Grace. About you. About us.

Of course she’s different. She’s our mate.

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