Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 61: Grace: Transference (I)

My body feels like it’s been used as a car crash dummy. Voices filter through the cotton stuffed between my ears, muffled and distant at first, then gradually sharpening into familiar tones. Angry tones.

"Absolutely not. Stay ten feet away at all times." Lyre.

An unmistakably familiar growl. "You aren’t in charge here."

"No, but they are, and you’re sucking her dry every time you make contact. Keep your damn mutt off her, too."

A snarl. Definitely Fenris.

"Stop looking at me like that. You’re a mutt without manners."

Consciousness hovers just out of reach, and honestly, slipping back into oblivion seems like the smart option. Nothing good waits in a room where Lyre and the Lycan King are squaring off. Death wish, party of one.

"Her energy is finally stabilizing, and you two want to go right in and take what she’s gathered—"

"If touching hurts, why are you letting them touch her?"

"They’re not feeding off her like she’s an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Oh. This sounds... not great.

A cool touch slides along my inner arm, followed by a sharp sting. Something tugs at my skin, and the sensation drags me closer to full awareness. Not Lyre’s touch—someone else’s. Cold and strange-feeling.

"BP is 90/60. Heart rate stable at 64." An unfamiliar voice, clipped and professional. "Okay, the IV’s in."

"All right. Let’s push some fluids." Another stranger.

Kind of sounds like I’m in a hospital.

"Let’s get ready to move her."

"You’re not taking her," Caine snaps.

Okay, maybe not a hospital. Oh. They probably called an ambulance. Now it makes sense.

"They can if they need to," Lyre argues.

Fenris whines.

My eyes flutter.

"She moved," Caine says immediately, tension vibrating through his voice. "Grace?"

Play dead, I tell myself. Just five more minutes of unconsciousness before facing whatever catastrophe awaits.

But the light beyond my eyelids burns red through the thin membrane, and someone’s fumbling with my arm again, and everything feels wrong and strange and cold, and hiding isn’t an option anymore.

I peel my eyes open with a groan. The ceiling light stabs straight into my brain.

"Too bright," I croak, voice like sandpaper.

"She’s awake." Caine again, closer now. I might not be able to see, but I can sense him looming.

He’s a very looming kind of person.

The word looming is starting to sound weird after using it twice in a row. Even worse with the third.

"I’ll turn off the lights," Lyre offers, sounding further away than Caine.

A hand grabs mine, and I vaguely sense an inner movement as soon as the contact is made. It’s strange, like... Like someone’s turned on a faucet, and something inside of me is gushing out, directly to the point of skin contact—

Something beeps. A lot.

"Stop touching her, you idiot!"

"I was just trying to—"

"Sir, you need to step back."

A growl.

My wish comes true, and unconsciousness takes me away again.

* * *

This time, when consciousness creeps back into my head, it’s quiet.

I tentatively open my eyes, breathing out a soft sigh when lights don’t stab into my eyeballs this time. There’s a faint amber glow illuminating the tiled ceiling above.

Now, for sure, I’m at a hospital.

A rustling sound catches my attention. I turn my head, the left side of my neck protesting, stiff from however long I’ve been laying here on a crinkly plastic pillow.

Lyre’s standing next to me, her rainbow hair mussed and wild. Her cat-slit eyes look exhausted, with dark circles underneath. She tilts her head, studying me in silence.

"Hi," I croak. My voice sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel. How long was I out?

"Hello there, sunshine." Lyre’s voice carries its usual musical lilt. "How are you feeling?"

I try to swallow, but my throat feels like it’s filled with glass shards. I cough and try again, grimacing through the pain. "Like someone ran me through a washing machine and hung me up to dry."

A smile quirks at the corner of Lyre’s mouth. "Well, at least you’re clean, then." She reaches for something out of my sight, then returns with a paper cup. "Water?"

I nod and try to push myself up. My arms tremble with the effort, embarrassingly weak.

"Easy." Lyre slips a hand behind my shoulders, supporting me with surprising strength. Her touch is cool against my skin, which feels fever-hot and oversensitive. "Small sips. Your system’s been through the wringer."

The water slides down my throat like salvation. I hadn’t realized how parched I was until the first drop hit my tongue.

"Where’s—" I start to ask, but Lyre cuts me off with a finger to her lips.

"He was kicked out. Can’t be within one hundred feet of the building, so he’s across the street, probably glaring at your window."

I blink.

She shrugs. "He deserved it."

I believe her, but...

My gaze drifts around the room. It’s not a standard hospital room—no clinical white walls or plastic chairs. Instead, the space is warm, with natural wood accents and what looks like hand-woven fabric covering the walls. A string of small lights creates the gentle glow I’d noticed earlier.

"Where am I?"

"It’s a hospital. You’re in the special ward upstairs." Lyre’s lips quirk. "The one for VIP supes."

I blink again. "I’m human."

"Yeah, but he isn’t."

Slowly, I tilt my head. I’m a little dizzy even from that movement. "What does Caine have to do with what ward I’m on?"

"Well..." Lyre scratches at her cheek. "You know what? I’m going to let him answer that question."

My eyes narrow at Lyre’s evasive answer. "You can’t just drop that and walk away. What does Caine have to do with this?"

Lyre shrugs, the movement almost too casual. "Let’s just say your boyfriend threw his weight around."

"He’s not my—" The denial sticks in my throat. Um. Maybe he is. Unless he does this kind of thing with women casually all the time... Does he? Shit. It isn’t like we had a conversation before he ripped my shirt off.

Reflexively, I glance down—but no, I’m not naked. There’s a hospital gown covering me.

"Do you remember what happened right before you passed out?"

Heat floods my face so fast I wonder if I might pass out again. Fragments flash through my mind—strong hands gripping my thighs, the heat of his breath against my neck, the relentless pressure of his fingers inside me, the way his voice rumbled against my ear as he—

Lyre’s nostrils flare as she waves her hand in the air. "Get it together, Grace. You’re projecting so hard I can practically smell it."

I yank the thin hospital blanket up to my chin as if it might shield my thoughts. "It’s not—I don’t—" But there’s no point denying it. My body betrays me with its crimson flush that surely extends from my hairline to my toes.

"So it was good, huh?" A hint of mischief dances in Lyre’s expression.

"Shut up." I bury my face in my hands, mortification making me dizzy. "I can’t believe I... with him... and then just... collapsed."

"’Collapsed’ is putting it mildly." Lyre perches on the edge of my bed. "Your energy was practically nonexistent. I’ve seen ghosts with more life force."

She’s so casual about it, like she’s really seen a ghost before. Lyre isn’t one to bluff, but... "Wait, have you really seen ghosts?"

"Why? Do you believe in them?"

"Ghosts? No, of course not."

Lyre’s laugh rings through the room, light and musical, yet with an edge. The hair on my arms stands up.

"Oh, Grace. You might want to open up that worldview a little more. There’s so much more than just humans and shifters out there." She gestures vaguely to the space around us, as if invisible creatures lurk in the corners of the hospital room.

"I know that," I say uncomfortably, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. Everyone knows there are other supernaturals. Witches. Vampires. But I haven’t met any of them.

Lyre chuckles. "Do you? Well, I suppose that’s a conversation for another time." She leans forward, her inhuman eyes studying me. "Do you remember stabilizing Caine?"

I shake my head immediately, frowning at the unfamiliar term. "Stabilizing? What do you mean?"

Lyre scratches at her cheek again, hesitating for a split second before her expression shifts to blunt curiosity. "Well, the two of you fucked, right?"

A cough rips through my throat, and I cover my burning face with both hands. "We didn’t—" My voice drops to a whisper. "We didn’t go all the way."

"Close enough." Lyre waves her hand dismissively. "The more intimate the contact, the more transference is going to occur."

My hands drop to my lap. "What are you talking about?" The question comes out weak, pathetic. I try desperately not to think about what happened in the camper after Lyre left us alone—Caine’s hands rough with need, my body arching against his, the way he growled against my ear, the shocking intensity of release that crashed through me...

Not thinking about it is clearly going well.

My face heats further.

"Energetic transference." Lyre’s voice shakes me from my thoughts. "Look, I don’t need the details of what you did. I’m just trying to explain what happened when you did it."

My fingers clench the thin hospital blanket. The mortified part of me wants to derail this conversation entirely, but obviously this isn’t an option. "I get that, but I’m not understanding what you’re saying."

Lyre frowns. "Has anyone ever explained what happens with a mate bond?"