Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Grace: Awkward Space

My body reacts before my brain even notices. I scramble backward like an awkward human crab, making it a foot away before my right wrist buckles out of nowhere.

My elbow crashes into the ground.

I adjust my position, trying to make my panicked retreat look casual.

I fail.

Spectacularly.

At least if I’m judging by the look on his face.

My cheeks are hot enough to light a fire.

Caine’s hand hangs suspended between us, frozen in mid-air. His face has transformed from brow-creased concern to wide-eyed bewilderment, like I just sprouted a second head.

He’s back to concern, but now it’s the kind of concern you give a kid after they faceplant a sidewalk.

“No touching, remember?” I manage, my voice hitting soprano when it’s usually a comfortable alto.

For a long moment, he stares at his outstretched hand like it’s not even his. Then he slowly brings it back to his side.

Tension thickens between us.

“Right,” he mutters. “No touching.”

I pull my knees tighter to my chest, wishing I could disappear into the stone floor.

“It’s not that I don’t—” I stop, feeling my face grow even hotter. How does one say yes, I’d like you to touch me without it sounding like a perverted invitation?

So I keep my mouth shut instead of finishing my sentence.

Fated connection or not, I still feel embarrassment. And awkwardness. And like we’re a little too close to feel like strangers now—especially since his hands have literally been in my pants, which is way out of stranger territory—but still feeling as if I don’t know the man at all.

We’ve fast-forwarded through the most basic part of a relationship: getting to know each other. Like, at all.

The things I know about Caine fit on one hand. One: Murderous instincts. Two: For some reason, he can manifest his wolf outside of his body. Three: His touches feel really good. Maybe too good. Four: He doesn’t like Lyre very much.

I’m sure there’s a five somewhere.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says.

But I do. I really do. Because his jaw is doing that tense thing again, and his shoulders have gone rigid, and somehow I’ve managed to offend the most dangerous predator I’ve ever met by not letting him touch me.

“I just don’t want to end up back in the hospital,” I say quickly. “The energy thing, remember? Lyre said we shouldn’t—”

“I remember,” he cuts me off, his voice clipped.

It feels like I’ve done something wrong, which makes something inside my chest twist up into a spiral of anxiety. It’s hard to take a lungful of breath, and heat flushes through my scalp, making my hair prickle. “It isn’t because of you—”

“I know, Grace.” His voice isn’t really softer, but some of the edge is gone. Closer to it than not.

Clearing my throat, I glance toward the alcove. At least the kids seem to have fallen asleep. It would be mortifying if they were watching all this unfold. Sara’s still convinced the Lycan King’s going to eat them all before morning, and his current aura would not help her fears.

“Anyway,” I say, desperate to change the subject before this gets any more awkward. “You were explaining… about Blue Mountain.”

Caine shifts, his massive shoulders rolling as if shaking off the moment. “Not much to explain. They suffered the proper consequences.”

All of thirty seconds ago, he’d admitted his actions might have been extreme. Now he’s back to cold and indifferent.

I pinch my lips together. Maybe it’s better to be quiet, before I offend him further.

* * *

Silence settles between us, charged but not exactly uncomfortable. The distant sound of Bun’s soft breathing from the alcove and Ron’s occasional sleep-mumbling fills the cave.

Caine remains statue-still, his profile sharp against the dim light—all defined jaw and brooding eyes.

I’m making this worse by staying away.

Somehow, I feel like I wouldn’t care even if he didn’t. But the old Grace, normal, human Grace with morals and values who cares about people living and dying, is still inside my head beneath all the fated bond nuance, and she definitely cares. Sort of. Maybe.

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