Page 44 of Grace of a Wolf 1
Ignoring Fenris's sarcasm, I watch her hesitate beside her chair. Her eyes dart between me and the spread of food, her throat working as she swallows. Her entire body is stiff, and she keeps cradling her hands against her chest. Does she really think I'm going to hurt her?
Why wouldn't she? What part of you has shown you won't?
The skin around my eyes tighten, and I fight the urge to scowl at the frail human, saturating this room in the scent of muffins.I might have tied and gagged her, but it isn't like I hurt her. Scared her, maybe, but she should realize how much restraint I've shown—
As you keep pointing out when it's convenient for you, she's human. Not a shifter. Violence is not normal in their world.
I scoff. Human news glorifies violence.
Fenris sighs.
My beta's hand brushes her arm as he pulls out her chair. "Sit," he tells her, and she does, though with hesitation.
My fingers dig into the table's edge. That casual touch sets my blood boiling. Even if it's just Jack-Eye being courteous, the sight of his fingers grazing her skin makes me want to separate his hand from his wrist.
"Get out," I snarl.
The girl flinches, shrinking into herself. Jack-Eye raises an eyebrow in my direction, but doesn't argue. If anything, that bastard smirks.
"Call me if you need me."
The door clicks shut behind him, but the sound of his retreating footsteps does nothing to calm the rage coursing through my veins.
I dig my elbow into the wooden arm of my chair, focusing on the dull ache that spreads through the joint. The pain grounds me, keeps my wolf's influence at bay. Keeps me from reaching across the table and—
And what?Fenris asks, sounding far too smug. He has front-seat views to the obscene visions in my head. Hell, he probably put them there.
I didn't. That's all you.
The girl rubs her wrist, head bowed. Her scent fills my nose with that maddening sweetness. The dark circles under her eyes stand out against her pale skin, and a muscle in my jaw ticks. "Eat before you faint."
She startles like a spooked deer, those green eyes darting up to meet mine before skittering away. Her gaze drifts across the room, taking in the sitting area with its plush chairs and ornate furniture.
"Where am I?"
My fingers curl into my palm. "My bedroom."
Her spine goes rigid. Those grass-green eyes snap to the open door across the room, where she can see the bed just beyond. The bed where her pillow now rests. Her heart rate spikes, flooding the air with the acrid scent of fear.
You're scaring her again.
A growl builds in my chest. I shove to my feet, the chair scraping against hardwood. Snatching her empty plate, I stab my fork into the spread before me. Scrambled eggs. Sausages. Bacon. A full slice of ham. Some strange, square potatoes. Scones. Each item lands with a clatter.
The plate hits the table in front of her with a loud thud, and she jumps again. "Eat," I order, handing her the fork.
There's still a caustic undertone to her sweet scent, and her fingers tremble as she reaches for the utensil. Not once do her eyes meet mine, though she's faced me in worse situations. Earlier, her face was flushed in embarrassment as she demanded to know why I was in her bed. Now, she's a frightened rabbit.
I don't like that.
Chapter twenty-two
Grace: Eat
There's food heaped onto the plate in front of me, turning into a small mountain of breakfast. I was starving, but now the egregious stack of food—enough to feed three people—leaves me nauseated.
"I'm not hungry," I lie, even though I'll regret it later.
"Eat," the overbearing monarch says, his voice so cold I swear there's an icy breeze in my ear.
