Page 7 of Grace of a Wolf 2
I try to swallow, but my throat feels like it's filled with glass shards. I cough and try again, grimacing through the pain. "Like someone ran me through a washing machine and hung me up to dry."
A smile quirks at the corner of Lyre's mouth. "Well, at least you're clean, then." She reaches for something out of my sight, then returns with a paper cup. "Water?"
I nod and try to push myself up. My arms tremble with the effort, embarrassingly weak.
"Easy." Lyre slips a hand behind my shoulders, supporting me with surprising strength. Her touch is cool against my skin, which feels fever-hot and oversensitive. "Small sips. Your system's been through the wringer."
The water slides down my throat like salvation. I hadn't realized how parched I was until the first drop hit my tongue.
"Where's—" I start to ask, but Lyre cuts me off with a finger to her lips.
"He was kicked out. Can't be within one hundred feet of the building, so he's across the street, probably glaring at your window."
I blink.
She shrugs. "He deserved it."
I believe her, but…
My gaze drifts around the room. It's not a standard hospital room—no clinical white walls or plastic chairs. Instead, the space is warm, with natural wood accents and what looks like hand-woven fabric covering the walls. A string of small lights creates the gentle glow I'd noticed earlier.
"Where am I?"
"It's a hospital. You're in the special ward upstairs." Lyre's lips quirk. "The one for VIP supes."
I blink again. "I'm human."
"Yeah, butheisn't."
Slowly, I tilt my head. I'm a little dizzy even from that movement. "What does Caine have to do with what ward I'm on?"
"Well…" Lyre scratches at her cheek. "You know what? I'm going to let him answer that question."
My eyes narrow at Lyre's evasive answer. "You can't just drop that and walk away. What does Caine have to do with this?"
Lyre shrugs, the movement almost too casual. "Let's just say your boyfriend threw his weight around."
"He's not my—" The denial sticks in my throat. Um. Maybe he is. Unless he does this kind of thing with women casually all the time… Does he? Shit. It isn't like we had a conversation before he ripped my shirt off.
Reflexively, I glance down—but no, I'm not naked. There's a hospital gown covering me.
"Do you remember what happened right before you passed out?"
Heat floods my face so fast I wonder if I might pass out again. Fragments flash through my mind—strong hands gripping my thighs, the heat of his breath against my neck, the relentless pressure of his fingers inside me, the way his voice rumbled against my ear as he—
Lyre's nostrils flare as she waves her hand in the air. "Get it together, Grace. You're projecting so hard I can practically smell it."
I yank the thin hospital blanket up to my chin as if it might shield my thoughts. "It's not—I don't—" But there's no point denying it. My body betrays me with its crimson flush that surely extends from my hairline to my toes.
"So it was good, huh?" A hint of mischief dances in Lyre's expression.
"Shut up." I bury my face in my hands, mortification making me dizzy. "I can't believe I... with him... and then just... collapsed."
"'Collapsed' is putting it mildly." Lyre perches on the edge of my bed. "Your energy was practically nonexistent. I've seen ghosts with more life force."
She's so casual about it, like she's really seen a ghost before. Lyre isn't one to bluff, but… "Wait, have you really seen ghosts?"
"Why? Do you believe in them?"
