Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 51: Grace: Charity

Caine doesn’t acknowledge Lyre’s words, his stormy eyes never leaving my face. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel stripped bare, as though he’s peeling away layers I didn’t even know I had.

Then there’s my body.

The stupid thing wants to wrap itself around him until his smell seeps into my skin, deep enough it can never be scrubbed away. To lick his neck and see what he tastes like. To put my mouth—

Damn it, my mind’s going haywire.

Stupid body. Stupid cologne-ad smell. Stupid sexy werewolf.

"Come on, boss." Jack-Eye claps a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s give the ladies their beauty sleep."

Suddenly, I like Caine’s beta very much. What a reasonable, thoughtful man.

Andrew remains awkwardly positioned on the ground; he hasn’t twitched a muscle this entire time, and no one seems concerned about helping him up. To be fair, I wasn’t, either. Knowing he’s alive is good enough; I’m not interested in taking him in as a friend and making sure he’s happy or anything. I just didn’t want his death on my hands.

Backing away, I mount the first step to Lyre’s camper. Caine’s eyes track the movement, his body tensing as if to follow, and I narrow my eyes.

I climb the second step, still ascending backwards. He hasn’t moved, but his fists clench at his sides.

"Turn around," he says roughly, scowling once again. "You’re going to fall."

Hmm. Telling him I’m going backward because I want to make sure he isn’t following probably won’t go over very well. Frowning, I do as commanded, but pause to cautiously peek over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved, and he’s still glowering at me like I’m doing something wrong.

The third step puts me at the threshold. When I look back for the last time, I swear, Caine stands like a statue, tall and immovable in the darkness.

A cold knot forms in my stomach as I step through the doorway. It feels like turning my back on someone who wants to eat me.

The camper is warmer and less humid than outside. A little safer, too. But the illusion shatters when something large brushes past my legs. I yelp, spinning around to find Fenris already making himself comfortable on the tiny patch of floor in front of the refrigerator.

"Excuse me?" I sputter, flabbergasted by his audacity. "I didn’t invite you in."

Lyre is the last to step inside, frowning at the wolf. "Neither did I."

The massive wolf blinks at me, his gray eyes almost amused, then deliberately lowers his head onto his paws.

"Oh no, you can’t stay here." I point toward the door. "Out. Now."

Fenris doesn’t budge.

"He’s the size of a miniature pony," Lyre observes from the doorway, her slitted eyes taking in the scene. "Where exactly do you think we’ll put him?"

I glare at the wolf. "Outside, with his master. Go on. Shoo."

Fenris huffs and closes his eyes.

"I don’t think he’s going anywhere." Lyre steps inside, closing and locking the door behind her. Before it closes completely, I catch a glimpse of Caine’s rigid posture, still watching the camper like a hawk.

"Wonderful. Just what we needed—a spy." I rub my temples where a headache begins to throb. "You realize he’s going to report everything back to Caine, right?"

Lyre shrugs, stepping over Fenris’s massive form to reach the sink. "Maybe. Or maybe he has his own agenda." She fills a glass with water and hands it to me. "Drink. You look like you might pass out."

I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth was until the cool liquid touched my lips. I drain the glass in one go, guzzling it down like I’ve ran a marathon in a desert. The emotional strain of the last half hour feels equal to the experience, anyway.

"You’re so calm," I mutter as Lyre takes my empty glass. "Is it normal for you to have werewolves crash at your place?" ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

"Nothing about my life qualifies as normal, but I’ve had stranger guests." She refills my glass and hands it over, but my belly’s already sloshing, so I shake my head. She pours it into a bowl instead, setting it on the ground by Fenris’s head.

Fenris peeks an eye open, his ear flicking one way, then the other.

"Don’t you dare tattle. If you do, you’re out. I will drag you out by your tail. Got it?"

Said tail thumps against the floor.

"You’ve verbally agreed to our contract," I warn him. "If you break it..."

Another tail thump.

"I’m not helping you," Lyre announces, taking the wind out of my sails. "I don’t think even I can manhandle that beast through the door if he doesn’t want to go."

She has a point. Fenris must weigh three hundred pounds, at least. If he decides to stay, we don’t have many options.

Ugh.

"Fine. But you are not sleeping in my bed. Stay on the floor. I don’t want fur all over my sheets."

Fenris lifts his head with a sudden whine, his ears going flat.

"No arguing. Don’t even think of getting on the bed."

Lyre leans back against the sink and crosses her arms, staring at Fenris without any expression. "You know he’s just going to sneak onto the bed when you fall asleep."

Jabbing my finger at the wolf, I warn, "Don’t you dare. I mean it. If I wake up with you on that bed, you’re out. Not just off the bed, but out of this camper. Forever."

Fenris blinks at me, his expression impossibly innocent in the way only animals can do. He lowers his massive head back onto his paws, but the twitch of his ear tells me he heard every word.

"I’ll know," I tell him, narrowing my eyes. "I always know when someone’s lying to me."

That’s a blatant lie. I’m terrible at knowing when people lie to me. I believed Rafe for years, after all. Believed Alpha when he said he loved me like his own daughter. Believed the pack when they said they accepted me.

Fenris huffs, his breath stirring some dust on the floor.

Three sharp knocks on the door cut through the silence, making me groan so loudly it borders on a scream. I bury my face in my hands. "Can’t they just leave us alone?"

"Apparently not," Lyre says, her tone dry as she moves to the door. She throws it open with more force than necessary, the hinges squeaking in protest. "What now?"

Jack-Eye stands on the top step, his tall frame filling the doorway. His gaze skips past Lyre to lock onto me. "Sorry to bother you ladies again, but I just had one question."

"And?" Lyre prompts when he doesn’t continue.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I need the answer. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor even answering it at all."

"A favor?" I echo, confused.

"Yes," he says firmly. "The charity of allowing me a night of peaceful rest, if you will."

Lyre sighs. "Cut the sob story and ask your question. Some of us would also like a night of peaceful rest."

Jack-Eye’s shoulders slump, and a sheepish grin spreads across his face as he continues to stare at me. "Why were you so happy to see Andrew was still alive?"

I groan.