Page 91 of Grace of a Wolf 1
"Take him back to Blue Mountain," I tell Jack-Eye, not wanting to linger. Not with Grace within reach. "We'll deal with his punishment there."
"Got it, boss."
Andrew's eyes dart between me and Jack-Eye, weighing his options. Smart enough to know there aren't many. "Alpha Wilder asked me to protect her," he says quietly. "To make sure she reaches Forest Springs safely."
"And yet you're not in Forest Springs."
His anxiety spikes, filling the air with the sour smell of fear. "She... she decided to come with someone else. A stranger. I couldn't leave her unprotected."
I take three measured steps toward the camper, my eyes fixed on its door. Andrew's scent is everywhere around it, but it's the camper itself giving me pause.
The skin between my shoulder blades prickles with unease. There's something here—something neither wolf nor human.
"Who is she with?" I demand, still facing the camper door.
"A woman named Lyre. She offered to take Grace to Yellowstone." His voice drops even lower. "Grace wanted to leave the pack life behind. All of it."
Leave it all behind. Leavemebehind. The thought cuts deeper than it should.
I take the final steps toward the camper door. For a brief, violent moment, I contemplate kicking it down, asserting my dominance the way I would with any challenger. My foot actually lifts from the ground.
Fenris nips sharply at my leg, teeth catching the fabric of my pants.
Don't be ridiculous,he growls.Knock like a normal person.
I scowl down at him. "I am the Lycan King. I don't need to—"
You're also trying to win her trust, not terrify her further. Knock.
He's right, damn him. With jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth, I raise my fist to the door and knock three times, each one sharp and distinct. The sound echoes in the quiet campground, too loud in the stillness.
After two seconds, the door is still closed, so I knock again.
Fenris sighs.Have a little patience. We can hear them moving in there.
Which is exactly why they should have this door open already, damn it. I lift my hand again.
Chapter forty-eight
Grace: Different Wavelengths
Lyre's hand twitches as whoever it is knocks again, right before her fingers touch the door handle.
Her head jerks back as she scowls, before dropping her arm and stepping back. Leaning against the opposite wall, she crosses her arms and counts silently, her lips moving with each number.
Her confidence is enough to instill awe. I can't imagine a time I've ever felt as if I could just stand in front of a door as someone impatiently knocks, without answering.
And yet it makes all the sense in the world. This isherhome. Her sanctuary. Who dares come knocking like this?
I want to be more like her.
"I'm grabbing a soda. Want one?" I whisper, slipping past her to the tiny kitchen nook.
Lyre shakes her head, still counting. I watch her lips move as she mouths, "Forty-two... forty-three..."
The knocking grows more insistent. Harder. Louder. The RV shakes with each impact, swaying gently underfoot. The first night, I'd been mildly seasick over the feeling. Now, I'm used to it.
After pulling a cold can from the fridge, I slide into one of the dinette seats, facing the door. From here, I can't see the door, but I can watch Lyre's methodical resistance.
