Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 8
Chapter 8: Grace: Exhausted
As it turns out, there’s some sort of massive event happening. The Lycan King is coming.
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No one knows why, but there are a lot of whispers. He’s been without a new mate for a long time, and has no heir. He’s probably on the search for a mate, or so the rumors declare. Then again, the same rumors claim he killed the last one, so I’m not sure how reliable the gossip mill is.
Wolves aren’t exactly like humans; their positions aren’t handed down solely because of bloodline. A wolf must be an alpha to lead, but not all alpha fathers sire alpha children. Also, females can be an alpha wolf—in theory—but are never accepted as leaders in their own right.
Alphas and Betas, as the leaders of a pack, are always an alpha wolf and beta wolf in designation. There can be many alphas and beta designations within a pack, but only two wolves carry the title.
It’s enough to make a human’s head spin, but it all makes sense once you’re living within a pack, as I am.
With all that said—it is rare to ever produce offspring of higher designation than the parents, though it isn’t uncommon for them to be of lower strength. So, two betas can’t make an alpha. And two omegas can’t make a beta. At least, that’s the general rule.
So, in order to have a Lycan Prince—the Lycan King needs an heir.
Though, if one were to ask what happens when a Lycan King dies without one—well, I have no idea. I don’t pay much attention to the Lycan court. I’m struggling enough to live in a wolf pack as a human.
“That’s enough for today. Clear out!”
The overseeing wolf’s bark cuts through the humid evening air. My shoulders sag with relief, the weight of exhaustion settling deep in my bones. I drop the shovel, my blistered hands screaming in protest as I flex my fingers.
Sweat and dirt cake my skin, mingling with streaks of blood from the cuts littering my arms. Each step sends jolts of pain through my feet.
There are numerous blisters rubbing raw against the inside of my ill-fitting shoes. The thought of the long walk back to the omega lodge makes me want to curl up right here in the torn-up garden.
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But if I do that, I’ll be free game to any of my tormenters passing by. While there’s no one who will protect me at the omega lodge, at least I have a room to hide in.
I force myself to move, one agonizing step after another. The pack bustles around me, their excited chatter about the Lycan King’s impending visit grating on my nerves. To them, it’s a momentous occasion. I’m sure the she-wolves who didn’t find their mates during the Mate Hunt are primping and prepping in hopes of becoming a Lycan Queen. None of them seem to care about the widespread rumor that he killed his last mate.
But to me, this chatter is just another reminder of how I don’t belong.
My stomach growls, a painful reminder that I’ve had nothing but a single glass of water while doing manual labor. The thirst is almost worse than the hunger, my throat dry and scratchy.
As I trudge along the darkening path, my mind wanders to the Lycan King’s arrival. Where will I hide? The omega lodge is out of the question—it’ll be crawling with visiting wolves. My old room in Alpha’s house is no longer an option.
A bitter laugh tears at my dry throat. Life in the wolf pack sucks.
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