Page 72 of Grace of a Wolf 1
A chill creeps up my spine. "What do you mean?"
She shrugs, moving to secure a strap across a shelf, keeping books in place. "Desperation has a particular scent. So does fear. And wolves—well, they have their own distinctive smell."
My fingers go numb as comprehension dawns. "You already knew Andrew was a shifter?"
"Of course." She gestures vaguely toward her eyes. "I'm not exactly standard issue human myself."
I'd assumed her eyes were contacts—a theatrical choice to match her vibrant aesthetic. But the casual way she references them suggests otherwise.
"What are you?"
"Does it matter?" she asks again, echoing her earlier response.
This time I don't hesitate. "No. It doesn't."
And I mean it. Whatever Lyre is, she's offered me freedom. After years of being judged for my humanity, the last thing I want to do is judge someone else for being different.
"Good answer." She smiles, revealing those slightly-too-sharp teeth again.
Chapter thirty-seven
Caine: You Touched Her
CAINE
Far in the distance, the horizon glows a dull orange, courtesy of the giant pyre burning the Blue Mountain Pack's dead.
Everything's going too smoothly this evening. Not a single issue has come to my attention. No one's acting out. Trouble is nonexistent. It's unrealistically peaceful.
The succession ceremony was flawless, but there's a vague itch in the back of my head. Something is brewing in this pack, but I've yet to find even a hint of what it may be.
"You look like you're about to start another rampage," Jack-Eye observes. He's been in good spirits since my subordinates' little intervention; funny, because my mood has only soured.
I glower at my beta, my jaw tight. My gaze shifts past him as the new Luna struts toward us with a self-important smile plastered on her face. Great. Dealing with her will only make my irritation worse.
"Handle her," I mutter to Jack-Eye, turning away before she reaches us. "I'm not in the mood."
Jack-Eye's chuckle follows me as I cut through the crowd, wolves parting before me like shadows fleeing fire. Unfortunately, it doesn't take long before I collide with the only person worse than this pack's new Luna.
Raphael Wilder. Rafe. The brand-new Alpha of the Blue Mountain Pack, and the girl's ex-lover.
"High Alpha." He extends his hand, a warm smile on his face, as if he hadn't once prostrated himself at my feet. Now he seems to believe he's close to my equal, living a fever-dream as the new Alpha. "I wanted to personally thank you for attending today."
I stare at his outstretched hand. My fingers twitch with the urge to grab his throat instead. To crush his windpipe. To feel bone and cartilage give way beneath my grip.
Instead, I loose a deep breath. Fenris gave me one last command before falling into his deep resting state:Don't kill anyone. Normally, I would ignore such a nonsensical order, but I remember how much fear spiked the girl's scent when the bloodshed began.
"Congratulations on your succession." Giving him even a sliver of civility is hard, but I don't want to hear Fenris nagging later. I don't take his hand, though.
His arm drops awkwardly to his side. "Thank you for ensuring a... peaceful transfer of power."
There's something in the way he phrases it, his humble words rubbing my fur the wrong way. It could be a side effect of wanting to rip his limbs apart, but my eyes narrow. "Did you expect otherwise?"
"Of course not, High Alpha."
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, before drawing his shoulders back, probably reminding himself to stand tall. Watching him squirm satisfies something primal in me. I let the silence stretch a beat too long.
"No, I wouldn't expect you to," I finally say.
