Page 73 of Grace of a Wolf 1
He's too young to be a true Alpha. Too weak to present any real threat to me. And yet my contempt has nothing to do with his capabilities and everything to do with the way his scent lingered on a human I struggle to admit is mine.
A muscle twitches in my jaw as I wonder how many sides of the girl he's seen. How far they've gone.
"High Alpha, how much longer do you and your Lycans intend to stay with us?" Rafe's tone is carefully measured as his gaze meets mine. He's no longer shifting around, his stare a little too direct. "Are your accommodations satisfactory?"
I tilt my head. "Oh? Are you playing host now, Alpha Raphael?"
He swallows, his eyes once again sliding off to the side. What little confidence he'd gathered is gone with a mere sentence, leaving me disgusted once again. "I apologize if that came across poorly. My people are still... adjusting to the Lycan presence."
"Are there complaints?"
"No, of course not." The lie reeks more than the alcohol being passed around; his pack is desperate to drown their sorrows, if only for a few hours. "It's an honor for the Blue Mountain Pack to host the Lycan King." Lie, again.
A cold smile stretches across my face. This pup has rebellion brewing behind those eyes, even if he isn't strong enough to shoulder the will. Perhaps I should have cut the head off this pack entirely when I had the chance, leaving no successor.
The temptation is real, but I remind myself of Jack-Eye's nagging and Fenris's order.My rule will not be marred with death. I am more than my bloodlust.
As much as I want to tear this pup's throat out for daring to have once coveted my human, I am capable of stepping back and allowing rational thought to take over, damn it.
A breeze drifts through the open windows, carrying Rafe's scent toward me. Distinctly wolf, with a strong scent of forest pine, but underneath...
Blueberries. Sweet, faint. Unmistakable.
My vision hazes.
Herscent. Onhim.
My fingers curl into a fist, tattoos burning across my skin as Fenris howls inside my head, no longer locked away.
Power pulses out in a crushing wave, and unsuspecting shifters fall to their knees. Beer and wine soak the grass as their grips fail. Their new golden-haired alpha prostrates himself at my feet, his forehead and hands pressed against the ground and body trembling beneath the force of my rage.
"Why?" I ask, clenching my fists at my side. I want to crush his bones, but manage to hold back.
"I—I don't understand." His words are muffled against the ground. "Did we do something to offend you, High Alpha?"
My hand shoots out, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up until he can meet my stare. "The girl," I snarl. "Why do I smell her on you?"
His eyes widen. "It's a misunderstanding."
"Don't." My grip tightens. "I can smell your lies."
"I visited her," Rafe admits, his words admirably steady compared to the pallor of his face and wide eyes. "To explain we were over, and to give her a final goodbye."
Lie.
"Did you touch her?"
"No."
Lie.
"You touched her."
Chapter thirty-eight
Caine: The Price of Stealing
CAINE
