Page 34 of Grace of a Wolf 1
His hand snaps out, fingers locking around my throat, and my heart slams against my ribs.Not again.The room spins. Why is it always the throat? Is strangulation something that speaks to their more primal side?
Stupid question when I'm about to die, but…
"Please." The word comes out as a wheeze, though I can still breathe. "Everything I said is true."
"Who. Is. It?" Each word drops like ice, his fingers tightening with each syllable.
My hands fly to his wrist, but I might as well try to bend steel. The tattoos on his arm writhe and twist, serpentine patterns that make my vision blur. A whimper escapes my lips, and I suck down air.
Easily.
Veryeasily.
In fact, he's not strangling me at all, though his fingers might leave marks on the sides of my neck.
My heart rate slows a smidgen. "Your Majesty, I swear I'm—"
"The relationship." His breath fans across my face; it smells like peppermint. "Who is it?"
Oh. My mouth goes even drier—not that I thought it was possible.
"Answer me." The king's voice drops lower, a growl that vibrates through his fingers and into my bones. The pressure increases, but only at the tips of his fingers. My lungs are still free to fill themselves with oxygen.
"Rafe," I whisper. "Raphael Wilder." Pointing in his direction, I can see in my peripheral vision Ellie is still beside him, but the details are unclear. My field of view is dominated by the Lycan King's face.
I wonder how Rafe looks. Apologetic? Or is he going to deny it all? Will he spew lies like Alpha, or admit what I say is true? Probably the former.
A snarl rips through the room. The king's eyes flash, his pupils expanding until there's nothing left but darkness rimmed in quicksilver.
Quickly, I add, "But it's over now. He—um, he found his mate at the Hunt."
Something flickers across the king's face. His fingers twitch against my throat, and for a heartbeat, I think he might snap my neck right here. But then he releases me, leaving me to stumble back, chest heaving with each gulping breath.
I could breathe, but it was still hard through the panic.
"Come forward," the king commands, turning to Rafe. "Let me see who dares touch what's mine."
My stomach drops.
Wait. What?
Chapter sixteen
Grace: What's His
Mine.
The world buzzes in my ears, and time seems to slow.
Alpha's standing now, veins protruding from his neck as he shouts at the Lycan King. Ellie's yanking on Rafe's arm, but he isn't looking at her. He's looking atme, his blue eyes dark and angry, as if I've somehow done something wrong.
My wrists and legs hurt where the rope still bites into my skin; there's no doubt I'm the king's captive, not anything heconsiders precious. And yet there's my brain, lost and stuttering over his words.
Let me see who dares touch what's mine.
Me? His?
My eyes return to the Lycan King, the source of this mess. His back is to me as he confronts my pack.
