Page 62 of Grace of a Wolf 1
Eventually, the soft mattress beckons me into sleep, a temporary escape from this bizarre reality.
A rough shaking wrenches me out of deep sleep, and my foggy mind registers someone's hand on my shoulder.
"Grace, wake up."
I sit up with a yawn, stretching my arms above my head until my joints pop. The motion helps clear some of the cobwebs from my brain, but when my vision focuses, my body freezes mid-stretch, hands locked high in the air. "Rafe?"
It's not Andrew's face hovering in front of me, but Raphael's. His blue eyes shine so brightly, my stomach flips. Not with cute butterflies, but in dread. His gaze is too intense, almost fanatical.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss, scrambling backward until I hit the wall. The distance between us isn't nearly enough.
Rafe's pine-and-earth scent, once thrilling and now rather generic, fills my nostrils, bringing unwelcome memories. His golden hair catches the light from the bedside lamp, creating a halo effect that seems laughably inappropriate given our recent past. How can someone so cruel look so much like someone's fantasy of a hero?
"I needed to see you before you leave for Forest Springs." He sits on the edge of my bed like he belongs there, reaching for my hand. "Andrew will be here soon."
I almost blurt out that Forest Springs is the last place I'd willingly go, but snap my mouth shut. He doesn't know about the change in plans; it's strange, but I'm not complaining about it. It's better this way.
Though, there's always the possibility Andrew lied just to appease me. I guess I'll find out soon.
"Why would you need to see me?" I ask instead, pulling my knees to my chest and keeping my hands out of his reach.
His expression darkens as he takes his hand back, his brows drawing together. "Of course it's because I care about you,Gracie. I haven't been able to see you since they murdered our people. I was worried."
The audacity makes my jaw clench. His hands gesture between us as he continues.
"Everything's been a mess, but I'm fixing it. You'll see, Grace." He leans closer, earnestness radiating from him like heat. If my IQ was single digits, maybe I'd even believe in it. "Ellie understands now. And soon, the Blue Mountain Pack will be officially mine. It's only a matter of time before I can bring you home."
Home. The word once meant something—safety, acceptance, belonging. Now it's just four empty letters. This pack is not my home, and he's one of the people who made it like this.
My face remains impassive through his passionate speech. His hands reach for me again, but I duck away from his attempted hug, scrambling off the bed.
"You need to leave," I say, my voice flat. "Before you ruin the entire plan and bring the Lycans running back to my room."
He shakes his head. "Don't worry, Grace. Everything's fine. I have a little time. I just needed to see you."
But it's not fine. Nothing about this is fine. The space between us feels charged with something toxic—his delusional hope and my simmering resentment. A dangerous combination.
"Rafe, please—"
He reaches out suddenly, fingers brushing against my neck. The touch sends revulsion crawling across my skin, and I jerk away.
"I'm so glad you're staying true to me," he says with a strange, overly soft smile. "Refusing the Lycan King's advances. Such a brave girl, my Grace."
My brain stutters to comprehend his words. He thinks I'm rejecting Caine... for him? A laugh bursts from my throat, sharpand incredulous. His delusions are only growing, becoming more ridiculous. Maybe it's his way of dealing with trauma.
Rafe's eyebrows lift at my reaction, but he must misinterpret it, because he steps forward, arms opening for an embrace as his head swoops closer, lips pursed for a kiss.
I dodge again, almost tripping over my own feet. Now I'm between him and the door, which is not where I want to be. It'll be hard to shove him out in this position.
His face twitches, irritation flashing across his features before he smooths it away. "Come here, Grace."
No.
Not only no, buthellno.
"If your scent gets on me, the King will go crazy," I say, grasping for any excuse which might penetrate his thick skull.
This finally gives him pause. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing dramatically. "You're right. Of course, you're right." His shoulders slump as he glances at me, his eyes wide and pathetic. It's his puppy dog face. I used to think it was cute.
