Page 97 of Grace of a Wolf 1
"Fair enough," Jack-Eye says.
He's surprisingly reasonable, which puts me on guard.
The beta slings an arm around Caine's shoulders, the casual gesture at odds with the tension radiating from his king. "So what's your plan then, ladies? Heading somewhere specific?"
I hesitate, glancing at Lyre. Telling them where we're going seems like a terrible idea, but they don't seem like they're just going to let us go.
"We'll be staying here for a while," the rainbow-haired woman says with a nonchalant shrug. Her eyes flick meaningfully toward Caine and Jack-Eye as she continues, "Seems like we have some bugs who aren't quite ready to leave yet."
Caine's rumbling grows louder. "Grace can't—"
"Actually, she can," Lyre interrupts, sounding bored. "I've paid for this spot through the weekend, and I don't plan to waste my money."
Jack-Eye's lips twitch as he inspects her, but eventually he smacks Caine on the back with casual familiarity. "Come on, High Alpha. Let's give the ladies some space to think."
"I'm not leaving her here," Caine hisses, shaking off Jack-Eye's arm. While his words are softer than before, leading me to believe he's not trying to be heard, he isn'tthatquiet. Every syllable is clear.
Fenris lets out an elongated, up-and-down kind of whine, turning his head to look at Caine. The king glowers back.
"Fine," Caine finally snaps. "But we're staying too."
"No, you're not." Lyre's denial is swift and firm.
Fenris makes another huffing sound and nudges Caine with his massive shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance; Jack-Eye coughs behind his fist, but by the way his lips keep quirking, I'm pretty sure it's to hide laughter.
Must be nice to find this situation so amusing. I'm shaking with my own audacity and worried Caine's going to snap and go for Lyre's neck, but the beta's over here snickering.
"We'll be back in the morning," Jack-Eye says after a few seconds, and Caine's head snaps in his direction.
"Bring breakfast if you're going to intrude. Bacon, not sausage. I like my eggs over easy, but Grace likes them scrambled."
The beta looks right at Lyre and laughs, seemingly unbothered by her flat stare and monotone demand. "Bacon, not sausage. Got it."
"White toast only," she adds, not a hint of emotion crossing her face. "If you get me wheat toast, I'll put my fork right through your tenders. And coffee. Black for me, cream and sugar for Grace."
Her remembering my coffee preferences isn't even something I blink at anymore; Lyre seems to remember everything the first time it's mentioned. Sometimes even things I don't remember telling her. Of course, it's only been a few days; it doesn't take a lot of brain power to remember basic preferences.
But I don't recall us ever eating eggs together.
"Consider it done." Jack-Eye gives a mock salute, then jabs his elbow sharply into Caine's ribs, without any deference to their difference in status.
His alpha doesn't flinch at the impact, but his gray eyes narrow into dangerous slits. The two men lock gazes in some silent battle of wills—Caine's expression darkening with each passing second while Jack-Eye's remains irritatingly pleasant.
It's enough to make me wonder if I've been wrong about the Lycan King this entire time. If you'd asked me a few days ago,I would have said Caine would kill anyone for even daring the slightest inch of insolence in his presence. Yet he allows his beta to argue with him, smack his back, and even dig his elbow into his side?
I shift my weight from one foot to the other, and Fenris presses closer. Maybe he thinks I'm cold. The breeze has kicked up, blowing my hair into my face.
Finally, Caine exhales a loud, deliberate sigh, though it sounds more like another growl. "Fine."
He stalks toward me, stopping barely a foot away. The breeze carries his scent my way, and I wonder what his cologne scent would be called. Something likeFull Eclipse, maybe. OrWildfire.
My body betrays me with a small shiver as I breathe it in.
"I'll see you in the morning," he says stiffly, and his words sound like a command more than a promise.
Irritated with my body, and him, and his stupid cologne smell and why does he look so good when he's a freaking murderer, I mutter, "You really don't need to come back."
Oops.
