Page 18 of Grace of a Wolf 1
"What?" I gasp, but Beta's already shoving me toward the door. "Wait, I—"
"Get to work," he snarls, and suddenly I'm outside again, blinking in the harsh sunlight.
A burly wolf grabs my arm, dragging me toward the ravaged garden. "Come on, we don't have all day."
I stumble after him. From a random errand to doing manual labor I'm in no way equipped to handle. Awesome.
Just another day in the life, I guess.
It's clear no one cares what I'm supposed to be doing. To them, I'm just another pair of hands. Expendable. Replaceable.
The wolf releases me with a grunt, gesturing at a row of uprooted bushes. "Start hauling these to the compost pile. And be quick about it."
I stare at the bushes, my stomach sinking. They're enormous, their root balls easily the size of my torso. There's no way I can lift these on my own.
"Is there some sort of equipment for this, or—"
He snorts. "Equipment? Just lift it up and take it over."
Yeah, that's about what I expected.
They know I'm human; they have to realize this task is just about impossible. But he storms off to do something else in the raucous atmosphere of the garden renovation.
Gritting my teeth, I bend down and wrap my arms around the nearest bush. Branches and leaves stab at my face as I struggle to lift it.
It doesn't budge.
Panic rises in my throat. If I can't do this, they'll punish me. Or worse, throw me out entirely. And then where would I go? I'm an adult now. There's no program in the human world to save me from homelessness and a lack of money.
I'm educated—if you count a werewolf high school diploma as educated.
But that's about it.
I try again, straining with all my might. My muscles scream in protest, but slowly, inch by agonizing inch, the bush lifts off the ground.
"That's it," a gruff voice says behind me. I guess he's back. "Now move it to the pile."
Sweat drips into my eyes as I stagger forward, the bush's weight threatening to crush me at any moment. Each step is a battle, my arms trembling with the effort of keeping the massive plant aloft.
After what feels like an eternity, I reach the compost pile. With a gasp of relief, I let the bush tumble from my grasp.
"Good," the man grunts. "Now do it again."
I turn back to the garden, my heart sinking at the sight of the dozens of bushes still waiting to be moved. This is going to be a long, painful day.
As I trudge back to grab another bush, movement near the lodge catches my eye. Rafe and Ellie stand on the steps, watching the activity in the garden. Watchingme.
Ellie's lips curl into a smirk as she leans in close to Rafe, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she says makes him laugh, his eyes never leaving my struggling form.
Chapter eight
Grace: Exhausted
As it turns out, there's some sort of massive event happening. The Lycan King is coming.
No one knows why, but there are a lot of whispers. He's been without a new mate for a long time, and has no heir. He's probably on the search for a mate, or so the rumors declare. Then again, the same rumors claim he killed the last one, so I'm not sure how reliable the gossip mill is.
Wolves aren't exactly like humans; their positions aren't handed down solely because of bloodline. A wolf must be analpha to lead, but not all alpha fathers sire alpha children. Also, females can be an alpha wolf—in theory—but are never accepted as leaders in their own right.
