Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 21: Caine: You’re an Idiot

CAINE

Even without being manifested, I can feel my wolf staring holes into my head.

You’re an idiot, Fenris observes for the twentieth time today.

Ignoring him, I nudge a plate closer to the empty seat across from me. The table is covered in a feast; plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, biscuits, scones...

This pack runs well enough, and it’s objectively a loss to have murdered its Alpha last night. While Jack-Eye hasn’t spoken to me about my sudden decision, I know it’s going to be a headache when we get back to our territory. Once news reaches the other packs, protests will come to the throne. Other packs will even send envoys.

There’s no way to sugarcoat an act of war, even for the Lycan King. If I want to keep the peace I’ve forced onto our people, I can’t go around killing Alphas—but his treatment of her...

Was it much better than yours? Fenris asks, with a bit of a snarl in his mental voice. He’s still angry with me for acting as if I was going to choke the girl.

"I didn’t hurt her. She’s alive, isn’t she?"

He sighs. How was she supposed to know you wouldn’t hurt her?

Nagging isn’t a usual part of our relationship, and his insistence on taking care of this human is frustrating. I’d spent all morning cleaning up our mess, and even kept her golden-haired lover alive to take over as Alpha. She should appreciate my restraint, considering the mess I created over her.

You’re going to regret thinking like that.

Ignoring Fenris’ warning, I drop into the chair, drumming my fingers against the table. Where is Jack-Eye with the girl? The food is nearly cold, and the girl hasn’t eaten all day.

That’s your fault. You forgot about her.

"Shut up." The words escape through clenched teeth. Besides, I didn’t forget about her. I just forgot to feed her.

You’re an idiot, my wolf opines again, sounding disgusted.

"Get out of my head." My knuckles whiten around the edge of the table. "I’m only feeding her because she needs to stay alive until we sort this mess out. She goes back to the humans after our investigation is complete."

Fenris snorts. And how do you plan to investigate when you slaughtered everyone who might have answers?

Pain shoots through my temples. I squeeze the bridge of my nose, a snarl building in my chest. "There are survivors." It isn’t like I massacred the entire pack. Just a chunk of it. Enough to make an example and take the edge off the anger burning in my chest. "The girl will answer my questions."

Will she? Then why didn’t you ask her some when you went to visit her?

Because the entire room smelled like her. Because as soon as I walked in, I was drawn to the bed, where everything was drenched in her obnoxious blueberry muffin scent. Because it was all I could do not to throw her onto it when she came out of the bathroom, wet and steamy—so I stole her pillow instead, taking it to my bed.

Fenris remains silent, but his smug presence is overbearing in my head. I want nothing more to punch that son of a bitch wolf in his muzzle the next time he manifests.

Footsteps echo down the hall. My head snaps up, nostrils flaring at her scent before she even enters. Jack-Eye opens the door, and there she is.

The human girl steps inside, her brown hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Dark circles ring her grass-green eyes, her skin pale from lack of food. Not that I care. This is purely Fenris’s obsession making me notice these details.

I wonder what possessed me to think you were intelligent enough to become King.

Ignoring Fenris’s sarcasm, I watch her hesitate beside her chair. Her eyes dart between me and the spread of food, her throat working as she swallows. Her entire body is stiff, and she keeps cradling her hands against her chest. Does she really think I’m going to hurt her?

Why wouldn’t she? What part of you has shown you won’t?

The skin around my eyes tighten, and I fight the urge to scowl at the frail human, saturating this room in the scent of muffins. I might have tied and gagged her, but it isn’t like I hurt her. Scared her, maybe, but she should realize how much restraint I’ve shown—

As you keep pointing out when it’s convenient for you, she’s human. Not a shifter. Violence is not normal in their world.

I scoff. Human news glorifies violence.

Fenris sighs.

My beta’s hand brushes her arm as he pulls out her chair. "Sit," he tells her, and she does, though with hesitation.

My fingers dig into the table’s edge. That casual touch sets my blood boiling. Even if it’s just Jack-Eye being courteous, the sight of his fingers grazing her skin makes me want to separate his hand from his wrist.

"Get out," I snarl.

The girl flinches, shrinking into herself. Jack-Eye raises an eyebrow in my direction, but doesn’t argue. If anything, that bastard smirks.

"Call me if you need me."

The door clicks shut behind him, but the sound of his retreating footsteps does nothing to calm the rage coursing through my veins.

I dig my elbow into the wooden arm of my chair, focusing on the dull ache that spreads through the joint. The pain grounds me, keeps my wolf’s influence at bay. Keeps me from reaching across the table and—

And what? Fenris asks, sounding far too smug. He has front-seat views to the obscene visions in my head. Hell, he probably put them there.

I didn’t. That’s all you.

The girl rubs her wrist, head bowed. Her scent fills my nose with that maddening sweetness. The dark circles under her eyes stand out against her pale skin, and a muscle in my jaw ticks. "Eat before you faint."

She startles like a spooked deer, those green eyes darting up to meet mine before skittering away. Her gaze drifts across the room, taking in the sitting area with its plush chairs and ornate furniture.

"Where am I?"

My fingers curl into my palm. "My bedroom."

Her spine goes rigid. Those grass-green eyes snap to the open door across the room, where she can see the bed just beyond. The bed where her pillow now rests. Her heart rate spikes, flooding the air with the acrid scent of fear.

You’re scaring her again.

A growl builds in my chest. I shove to my feet, the chair scraping against hardwood. Snatching her empty plate, I stab my fork into the spread before me. Scrambled eggs. Sausages. Bacon. A full slice of ham. Some strange, square potatoes. Scones. Each item lands with a clatter.

The plate hits the table in front of her with a loud thud, and she jumps again. "Eat," I order, handing her the fork.

There’s still a caustic undertone to her sweet scent, and her fingers tremble as she reaches for the utensil. Not once do her eyes meet mine, though she’s faced me in worse situations. Earlier, her face was flushed in embarrassment as she demanded to know why I was in her bed. Now, she’s a frightened rabbit.

I don’t like that.