Page 46 of Grace of a Wolf 1
The door clicks shut without further argument, leaving me alone with a murderer who makes my body wish he was an angel.
I focus on the plate, determined to eat and get out of here as fast as possible. Grabbing the fork only makes the pain worse, and a quiet hiss escapes my lips before I can stop it.
"What's wrong with your hand?" His voice is sharp, demanding answers as if he's entitled to know everything about me.
"Nothing." I switch the fork to my left hand, awkward and clumsy as I try to spear a piece of egg. My right hand finds refuge in my lap, hidden under the edge of the table. "I'm fine."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not—"
His hand shoots out, unerring as they dive beneath the table. His fingers wrap around my forearm and I yelp as he draws my injured wrist up for inspection. His touch is surprisingly gentle despite his harsh tone, but that doesn't stop the way my heart pounds against my ribs.
"Who did this?"
"No one. I fell." I have no idea why I'm lying to protect Ellie, but this situation feels dangerous.
His grip tightens a fraction, but I'm pretty sure his fingers won't leave bruises. Is he being gentle with me? The same man who tied me up, left me in a forest, and choked me? Then again, this is the same psycho who stole my pillow. There's no point trying to make sense out of his actions.
"Try again," he says, as my brain scrambles to understand what he's doing.
Chapter twenty-three
Grace: Not Clear at All
Ipress my lips together, not sure what to do. If I tell him Ellie hurt me, he might… hurt her, right?
No. This line of reasoning has no basis in reality. He doesn't care about me. If he was going to get upset over someone grabbing my wrist, his beta wouldn't have stood there so calmly while she did it. Ergo, there's no point in protecting Ellie. I don't even like her. She's an objectively terrible person.
Sighing, I tug my arm out of his grasp, mildly surprised when he lets go. His brow creases as he stares at my hand. "I just had alittle altercation with Rafe's mate earlier. Since I'm human, I get hurt pretty easily."
"Altercation?" Brooding eyes shift from my wrist to my face. "Didn't I make it clear you're mine?"
I stare at him, my mind blank. The absurdity of his claim only rises after yesterday. "No? I don't think it's very clear at all, actually."
His tense jaw goes slack, his narrowed eyes now wide at my response. He opens his mouth, then closes it, tilting his head as he inspects my face. "What did you say?" he finally asks, his voice much higher than normal.
He's probably not used to being contradicted, but what does he expect with his strange behavior? Nothing's clear at all! "I said no, you didn't make it clear. What does beingyourseven mean?" My hands shake, and I clasp them into my lap tightly. I can't keep looking at his face, so I look at the wall behind him instead.
This is a terrible idea. He's going to kill me for going against him. He doesn't like his authority challenged.But my mouth keeps going. "First, you tell the entire pack I'm yours—which I'm not. Then you tell them my presence here is illegal and I'm the problem between the packs. So which is it? Am I your property, or am I a criminal you need to get rid of?"
His nostrils flare. The muscles in his jaw work as if he's grinding his teeth. "I never said—"
"You were mad at Alpha for taking me in. You kept asking him why ahumanwas let into the pack. I didn't know it was illegal then, but it makes sense now. So how can you be angry at Alpha if you're also saying you've laid claim to me? Your actions are contradictory, don't you think?"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me.My bravery makes it hard to breathe, but at least the words are finally out there.
The crease between Caine's brows deepens. His hand rises to his forehead, and he releases a long sigh while taking a step back. The space between us grows, and my lungs remember how to function again.
"I see your point," he says.
The words hang in the air as he walks back to his chair, dropping into it with a fluid motion that reminds me of a predator settling in for the hunt. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable.
And awkward.
My stomach growls, reminding me of the cooling food in front of me. With trembling fingers, I pick up my fork in my left hand. Each bite is a challenge, but I chew on autopilot, the weight of Caine's stare making it hard to swallow.
He slams his hand against the table out of nowhere, and I jump, tightening my grip on my fork before I drop it again.
"There's nothing wrong with saying you're mine while I investigate your situation." He sounds almost triumphant, his entire face relaxing as he stares at me.
