Page 101 of Grace of a Wolf 1
"Anyway. Shifters are obsessed with purity, right? So it makes sense he'd be suspicious of my intentions."
Lyre's expression doesn't change, but something about her stillness makes me feel like I'm being dissected. "This is the conclusion you've come to?"
"Well, it's just a working theory."
"But why would he think you're trying to take over a pack you're running away from?"
I open my mouth, close it, then fall back against my pillow. She's right. It makes no sense, putting me directly back at square one. Why am I getting chased by the Lycan King?
Fenris huffs.
"Hush," I tell him absently, running my fingers through my hair with enough force to make my scalp sting. "I just don't get it, then. Why is he here?"
"Did you get good grades in school?"
The non sequitur catches me off guard. "What?"
Lyre's face remains blank. "In school. Were you a good student?"
"I mean... I did okay, I guess?"
"Ah. Then it's just willful ignorance."
Before I can ask what she means, three sharp knocks rap against the door. Fenris lays his head on his paws, unimpressed by his master's arrival.
Lyre rolls of the couch and bounces to her feet, all without spilling a drop of coffee. "Breakfast's here," she announces, moseying her way to the door.
A few minutes later, Caine and Jack-Eye stand in the kitchen, crowding our space. Their hulking figures block out most of the morning light, and Lyre seems unimpressed as she flips on the kitchen lights to see what they've brought over.
They're still wearing the same clothes they were in last night and—through the screen door Lyre leaves open—I can see Andrew cleaning up his camp site. The tent's still up, and there's someone else there with him, too. I didn't see him last night.
"There's no way you all fit in that tent together," Lyre says, plucking a to-go container of bacon out of Jack-Eye's hands.
"You're right," Jack-Eye says, balancing more white boxes. "Andrew and Thom slept in the car."
Thom? I don't recognize that name, but he must be the other person outside. I wonder if they got to eat breakfast already. It feels a little weird to exclude them from the food.
Jack-Eye sets everything on the counter, opening each container as he does so. White toast, as requested. Eggs—both over easy and scrambled. French toast dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon.
My stomach growls at the sight, but I'll wait to get my plate. With two Lycans and Lyre in the kitchen, it's a little too crowded.
Lyre recoils when she sees the French toast. "That's disgusting."
Jack-Eye gasps and clutches a hand over his heart, as if her words mortally wounded him. "Mademoiselle. French toast is the best breakfast food in existence."
"It's soggy bread," Lyre counters, putting eggs on her plate. "Bread that's been dunked in eggs and milk until it's a sad, pathetic version of itself. It's bread that gave up."
"It's bread that was elevated to a higher form of existence." Jack-Eye points at her with a plastic fork. "The way the custard soaks into every—"
"Custard?" Lyre makes a gagging noise. "Just say what it is. Snotty egg juice."
Jack-Eye frowns. "Are you even human?"
"Nope," Lyre says, unfazed. "Are you?"
"Uh—no."
I try not to smile, but there's something cute about their easy banter. Like they've known each other longer than about ten hours, with eight hours of those being sleep.
