Page 5 of Grace of a Wolf 2
"We do," she assures hastily. "We recognize your authority, High Alpha. We were just… unaware of your presence until now. I apologize for interrupting…" Her eyes flick to the camper. "Your pleasure."
I can feel Jack-Eye's amusement behind me, though his face is likely impassive. It's a sixth sense borne of years of friendship.
"Was my beta's presence not enough for you?"
"My apologies, High Alpha. It is our first experience with Lycans in our territory."
I grimace. The reasoning is fair; packs like Fiddleback are small, based in rural areas. "Now you know. Leave. My business here is my own."
Elizabeth regards me for a moment, then clears her throat. "We mean no offense, High Alpha. The Fiddleback Pack would be honored to offer you hospitality during your stay in our territory." She straightens her posture, schooling her features into a mask of deference. "Our compound has suitable accommodations for you and your entourage."
A heavy hand smacks down on my shoulder. I don't have to look; I already know Jack-Eye's grinning like a fool. He loves anything free; he calls it an occupational hazard, after helping with our pack finances for so many years.
"We'll take you up on that generous offer," he says, his voice warm with charm.
A growl builds in my chest. I'm not leaving Grace.
We need somewhere to stay, anyway,Jack-Eye pack-links directly to me. His mental voice is pragmatic.And it means we can keep Andrew away from her.
My shoulders relax. Yes, distance between the two would be ideal.
My gaze drifts beyond the confrontation. Andrew stands by my car, arms folded across his chest, eyeing the wolves with suspicion. Thom hovers beside him, nervously fiddling with his copper-wired glasses. Behind them sits a pile of our belongings—the collapsed tent, sleeping bags, some bags of unknown provisions. Everything already packed up and ready to move.
How long was I in that camper with Grace? Long enough for them to break down our entire camp.
"Jack-Eye, take Andrew and Thom to the compound. I will stay here."
Chapter three
Grace: Transference (I)
My body feels like it's been used as a car crash dummy. Voices filter through the cotton stuffed between my ears, muffled and distant at first, then gradually sharpening into familiar tones. Angry tones.
"Absolutely not. Stay ten feet away at all times." Lyre.
An unmistakably familiar growl. "You aren't in charge here."
"No, but they are, and you're sucking her dry every time you make contact. Keep your damn mutt off her, too."
A snarl. Definitely Fenris.
"Stop looking at me like that. You're a mutt without manners."
Consciousness hovers just out of reach, and honestly, slipping back into oblivion seems like the smart option. Nothing good waits in a room where Lyre and the Lycan King are squaring off. Death wish, party of one.
"Her energy is finally stabilizing, and you two want to go right in and take what she's gathered—"
"If touching hurts, why are you lettingthemtouch her?"
"They're not feeding off her like she's an all-you-can-eat buffet."
Oh. This sounds... not great.
A cool touch slides along my inner arm, followed by a sharp sting. Something tugs at my skin, and the sensation drags me closer to full awareness. Not Lyre's touch—someone else's. Cold and strange-feeling.
"BP is 90/60. Heart rate stable at 64." An unfamiliar voice, clipped and professional. "Okay, the IV's in."
"All right. Let's push some fluids." Another stranger.
