Page 98 of Grace of a Wolf 1
His jaw tightens.
Oh, well. I've already said it, so I put every ounce of sincerity I possess into my voice as I add, "Really. Truly. You don't."
His scowl sends a chill down my back. "I'll be back."
Why does it sound like a freaking threat? It's just three words, but they land like stones, heavy with certainty.
"Eight o'clock," Lyre calls out from behind me. "Any earlier and we won't be decent."
Chapter fifty-one
Grace: Charity
Caine doesn't acknowledge Lyre's words, his stormy eyes never leaving my face. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel stripped bare, as though he's peeling away layers I didn't even know I had.
Then there's my body.
The stupid thing wants to wrap itself around him until his smell seeps into my skin, deep enough it can never be scrubbed away. To lick his neck and see what he tastes like. To put my mouth—
Damn it, my mind's going haywire.
Stupid body. Stupid cologne-ad smell. Stupid sexy werewolf.
"Come on, boss." Jack-Eye claps a hand on his shoulder. "Let's give the ladies their beauty sleep."
Suddenly, I like Caine's beta very much. What a reasonable, thoughtful man.
Andrew remains awkwardly positioned on the ground; he hasn't twitched a muscle this entire time, and no one seems concerned about helping him up. To be fair, I wasn't, either. Knowing he's alive is good enough; I'm not interested in taking him in as a friend and making sure he's happy or anything. I just didn't want his death on my hands.
Backing away, I mount the first step to Lyre's camper. Caine's eyes track the movement, his body tensing as if to follow, and I narrow my eyes.
I climb the second step, still ascending backwards. He hasn't moved, but his fists clench at his sides.
"Turn around," he says roughly, scowling once again. "You're going to fall."
Hmm. Telling him I'm going backward because I want to make sure he isn't following probably won't go over very well. Frowning, I do as commanded, but pause to cautiously peek over my shoulder. He hasn't moved, and he's still glowering at me like I'm doing something wrong.
The third step puts me at the threshold. When I look back for the last time, I swear, Caine stands like a statue, tall and immovable in the darkness.
A cold knot forms in my stomach as I step through the doorway. It feels like turning my back on someone who wants to eat me.
The camper is warmer and less humid than outside. A little safer, too. But the illusion shatters when something large brushes past my legs. I yelp, spinning around to find Fenrisalready making himself comfortable on the tiny patch of floor in front of the refrigerator.
"Excuse me?" I sputter, flabbergasted by his audacity. "I didn't invite you in."
Lyre is the last to step inside, frowning at the wolf. "Neither did I."
The massive wolf blinks at me, his gray eyes almost amused, then deliberately lowers his head onto his paws.
"Oh no, you can't stay here." I point toward the door. "Out. Now."
Fenris doesn't budge.
"He's the size of a miniature pony," Lyre observes from the doorway, her slitted eyes taking in the scene. "Where exactly do you think we'll put him?"
I glare at the wolf. "Outside, with his master. Go on. Shoo."
Fenris huffs and closes his eyes.
