Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 64

64 /208

Chapter 64: Grace: My Fault

Lyre keeps pulling out her phone and frowning. At first, I thought it was her way of avoiding more conversation about my parents and my identity.

Turns out I was wrong. Lyre’s shameless enough to refuse to answer questions outright, without excuses. Remembering her past frustration over not being able to give me clear answers, I’m starting to wonder if maybe…

I don’t know. It’s weird.

Maybe she really can’t tell me some things. She’s said as much, so it isn’t too far-fetched of an idea, but it seems like there’s something keeping her from spilling everything she knows.

Lyre’s phone gives another annoying ding. She scoffs, glaring at the screen before shoving it into her pocket with more force than necessary.

“Something wrong?”

She waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Your boyfriend’s headed out to greet the local alpha.”

“He’s not my—” The denial sticks in my throat again, because… well. Then my mind catches up with the rest of her sentence. “Wait, what?”

“Your Lycan King has deigned to socialize with the local pack. Progress, I suppose.”

My stomach drops. The image of Caine splattered with blood and surrounded by bodies flashes through my mind. “Is he going to kill everyone here too?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how blunt—and ridiculous—they sound. But Lyre doesn’t seem offended. Instead, her catlike eyes narrow and she tilts her head back, looking at me as if I’m some strange specimen on display at a museum.

“What makes you think he’s going to kill anyone?”

“I mean…” Sure, Caine hasn’t exactly been super murderous around me since then. Especially when things got steamy between us. But the memory of that night is going to be branded in my brain forever. The snarls. The screams. The wet, meaty sounds of violence I tried so hard not to hear.

My body yearns for him, and he might be my fated mate for some strange reason, but ultimately, he’s still… who he is. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea a killer can genuinely care for someone.

“He started massacred my pack.” Wait. Now it sounds like he killed everyone. “Some of them.”

“Hmm.” Lyre stretches, yawning widely. Her slightly sharp teeth glint in the light. “Tell me, what kind of person do you think the current king is?”

“Mass murderer.” My answer comes without hesitation or thought. No consideration, no moment of reflection. It’s hard to shake first impressions, I guess.

She snorts, then coughs, patting at her chest as she clears her throat. “Okay. And what does that make you? The girl who let a murderer into her pants?”

Prickling heat suffuses my cheeks. My shoulders slump as I groan, “Shameless. I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell.”

Lyre’s peals of belly laughter fill the room. “If there is a hell, we’re all headed there for one reason or another.” She taps a finger against her lips as she snickers, de-escalating her amusement. “Though I have to wonder—if you believe he’s a cold-blooded killer, why did you sleep with him?”

I open my mouth to respond, then close it. The simple, terrible truth is that there’s no good answer for me to give.

“I didn’t… think about it.” My voice is tiny as I admit it. “When he touches me, I can’t think at all.”

“Hmm.” Lyre chuckles. “My sympathy for the wolf is rising once again.”

“What do you mean?”

She shakes her head. “He has a lot of work ahead of him, that’s all. And he doesn’t seem emotionally intelligent enough to navigate the maze in your head.”