Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 49: Grace: Did You Kill Andrew?

What the hell does smelling like coconuts have to do with anything? I blink at Caine, genuinely confused by the bizarre shift in conversation.

Caine’s jaw tightens as his nostrils flare again. He breathes in deeply, looking almost offended by my smell.

"It’s lotion, okay?" Something about the intensity of his stare makes me want to fill the silence, but I have nothing particularly nice to say. Instead, I mumble, "Not that it’s any of your business what I put on my body."

His eyes darken at my words, and I immediately regret my phrasing. It’s stupid to antagonize someone when you don’t want them to kill you, but it’s hard not to get a little uppity when they act so damn strange.

I shift in my seat, tapping my fingers against the table as I gather my courage. "Look, I don’t think you have any legal right to hold me as a prisoner."

It’s something I’ve been thinking about for some time, going around in circles in my head. Trying to sound confident, even as my heart threatens to burst through my ribcage, I add, "I was a minor when I was taken to the Blue Mountain Pack, and I haven’t done anything illegal."

"I need to investigate," Caine says simply. No other explanation. No details. Just those four words, like it’s all he needs to say and I should just go along with it.

"Investigate what?" My voice rises despite my effort to stay calm. "We know I’m human. Alpha Brax brought me here. I was a minor, so it isn’t like I had much choice. What else is there to look into?"

Caine stiffens, his shoulders squaring. "There are things I need to look into," he mumbles, still without a real explanation. "Your involvement..."

When he trails off, I assume he’s going to finish his thought. But he doesn’t. It’s like he’s trying to make up excuses or something.

"My involvement in what? Dating Rafe? It’s over now."

He shifts his weight, looking strangely uncertain. It’s almost hard to reconcile the Caine in front of me with the Lycan King I met in the forest. For one, he’s still kneeling in front of me, like he’s trying to serve me instead of keep me prisoner. For two, he’s just so... soft. Almost approachable, even.

"I still need to determine—"

"Dude." Lyre’s voice interrupts his words as she enunciates clearly, "Back. Off."

Caine’s head whips toward her, all pretense of gentleness evaporating. A low growl rumbles from his chest, like a reminder of how threatening he can be.

But Lyre doesn’t flinch. She squeezes past him in the tight space, her rainbow hair brushing against his shoulder as she slides into the booth beside me. Her hip nudges mine, pushing me further into the corner as she becomes a physical barrier between me and the Lycan King.

Caine’s mouth tightens as he stands, looming over us with his outrageous height difference.

Crossing her arms on the table, Lyre leans forward, her catlike eyes narrowed. "So let me get this straight. You’re detaining a human girl who hasn’t committed any crime, based on what exactly? Your royal prerogative?"

Caine’s nostrils flare. "This doesn’t concern you."

"Actually, it does." Lyre’s voice drops to a dangerous purr. "Since you’re in my home, threatening my guest."

My heart pitters and patters. She’s defending me. It’s the sweetest moment I’ve had in way too long.

"I’m not threatening anyone," he protests.

"No? What would you call it then?" She tilts her head. "Forcible relocation? Kidnapping? Unlawful detention?"

Caine’s eyes flash with something dangerous. "She was found in the forest during a regional Mate Hunt—"

"Against my will," I pipe up, emboldened by Lyre’s support.

"She was connected to pack affairs—"

I grimace. "He means Rafe," I whisper to Lyre. She’s heard me mention him, though I haven’t exactly explained anything. "My ex-boyfriend. He ditched me as soon as he found his fated mate."

Lyre nods as she listens. "As an unwilling participant," Lyre counters Caine smoothly, as if I didn’t interrupt with my clarification. "It sounds as if Grace was raised by wolves, but isn’t one herself. She’s human. She has no legal obligation to follow pack law. Human laws apply to her, and human laws are pretty clear about forcibly taking people against their will."

Fenris whines from where he sits at Caine’s side, his ears pressed flat against his head. The sound is startlingly human in its distress, and he nips at Caine’s hip.

Caine swats absently at Fenris’s muzzle. "I’m not here to detain her," he says, as if he hadn’t just tried to argue about my status as his prisoner. "I’m responsible for her safety."

"No, you’re not." Lyre straightens, her voice taking on a formal cadence. "Grace is a legal adult in the eyes of human society. She has the right to go where she wants and live how she chooses."

Caine’s eyes flick to mine, then back to Lyre. "She has no resources. No support system."

"She has me," Lyre says simply.

"Yes, and..." His lip curls in a faint snarl. "Who are you?"

"Someone who dislikes the overbearing ego of werewolves."

The air between them crackles with tension. Fenris, on the other hand, seems irritated with Caine, nipping at his thigh when he keeps getting batted away from his hip. Finally, he flops onto his belly and crawls between Caine and Lyre’s feet.

I peer under the table to see his eyes blinking at me. Another few inches and he’s finally close enough to plop his head into my lap with a soft chuff. I rub his ears, forgetting for a second his status as a traitor.

"Grace needs protection," Caine insists, his voice softer now but no less intense. "I’m here to help her get settled into human society comfortably. There’s no reason for her to suffer for the actions of one of my packs."

"Mmm." Lyre hums. "Sounds like a convenient way of saying you don’t actually have a valid reason."

"It’s my responsibility to ensure—"

Something clicks in my brain. A missing piece of this bizarre puzzle suddenly registers, and I jolt upright in my seat.

"Andrew! Did you kill Andrew?"

How could I have forgotten about Andrew? He’s in a tent right next to us. There’s no way the Lycan King missed his presence. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Caine’s expression shifts, the hard lines of his face softening into something disturbingly like satisfaction. "I did not kill Andrew," he says with an odd little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

I exchange a glance with Lyre. Her slitted eyes narrow slightly, a silent message passing between us. Something’s off about his answer—he’s too pleased with himself.

"I also didn’t kill the Forest Springs Alpha," Caine adds quickly, his hands spread wide in a gesture which seems meant to be reassuring but feels more performative.

Fenris shifts his massive head in my lap, releasing a derisive snort. The reality of what Caine’s saying finally registers. He’s listing people he specifically didn’t kill—which suggests...

"So no one’s died, right?" I press, searching his face for confirmation.

Caine’s stormy eyes slide away from mine, finding sudden interest in the garish pattern of Lyre’s curtains. My stomach drops. The way he can’t meet my gaze tells me everything I need to know.

A cold shudder ripples down my spine. He’s lying to me.

Without thinking, I scramble over Lyre, ignoring her startled "Hey!" as I push past her and Caine’s broad frame. My elbow connects with his solid chest, but he barely budges. I have to shoulder my way around him, my heart thundering in my ears as I dash for the door.

Humid night air hits my face as I burst outside, my eyes frantically scanning the darkness for any sign of Andrew. I need to see him. Need to know he’s okay. Need to—

I come to such an abrupt halt I nearly topple forward.

The red-haired Lycan—Jack-Eye, I remember—stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest as he smirks. But what’s happening next to him stops me cold. Andrew is on the ground, his body contorted into what can only be described as a plank position, except his butt is hiked comically high in the air. His face is pressed into the dirt, arms at his sides, looking for all the world like he’s doing the world’s most uncomfortable push-up.

Relief floods through me, so powerful it makes my knees weak. He’s alive. Humiliated, apparently being punished in some bizarre wolf way, but alive.

"Are you that happy to see he’s still alive?"

Caine’s voice comes from directly behind me, low and displeased. I hadn’t heard him follow, but now I can feel the heat radiating from his body, separated from my back by the barest sliver of space. His breath disturbs the hair at the nape of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver across my skin.

"Of course," I mumble, taking a step away. Caine just moves closer, though, rendering the slight movement moot.

"Why?" he demands.