Page 98 of Grace of a Wolf 2
Dangerous. Pretty, but full of mortal peril if you look at her wrong.
I study her profile, the sharp line of her jaw, the slight upturn of her nose. Everything about her is a contradiction—she looks soft, yet she's capable of things so arcane they feel just this side of illegal.
"So what are you, exactly?" The question's been eating at me for a while now, only stronger after I watched her walk out of that place, hands clean but eyes haunted. "I've seen powerful before, but you're something else."
No one's been able to throw Caine around like she does, that's for fucking sure. There's a reason he has my loyalty.
From the back seat, Thom stirs. His eyes flutter open, landing on Lyre with an unsettling intensity. "She's..." His voice drops to a reverent whisper. "She's beyond powerful. I can feel it. Like we're standing too close to the sun."
He sounds more poetic than usual, probably because he's half-asleep.
Lyre's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, then back to the road. The silence stretches.
I should be annoyed by her refusal to answer. It's the kind of shit I'd call Caine out on in a heartbeat. But with her, I'm... intrigued. The mystery of her sharpens something in me, a curiosity bordering on hunger.
She has freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. I hadn't noticed them before, when we were knee-deep in blood and crisis. They're unexpected on someone so intimidating—like finding wildflowers growing in a volcanic field.
Her posture radiates confidence, a bone-deep certainty that she belongs exactly where she is. Even when she's angry.
Let's be real, I noticed her curves the moment we met. I'm not dead. But this feeling crawling up my spine isn't just attraction. It's different. Thrilling. Staring at a beautiful predator and wondering if it would be worth it to get closer, just to see what happens—that kind of obsessive, ill-advised pull.
"Why are you staring?" she asks without taking her eyes off the road. Her tone is dry as dust, and I wonder if it would change if I told her I wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her until she's begging.
Someone as strong as her, demanding more of my cock? It twitches just thinking about it.
I let the corner of my mouth lift and aim for an answer less… explosive. "Trying to figure you out."
"Don't bother." The words slice cold and clean between us. "You wouldn't even know where to start."
From the back seat, Owen clears his throat. "It's better not to meddle with the likes of an Echo Witch." He sounds reverent, but the kind of reverence where you're scared you'll be turned into ash for sinning.
Andrew stirs for the first time in hours. I guess the atmosphere of the car's even woken the kid.
I turn, keen to know more. "Echo Witch? That a rank or a warning label?"
Lyre says nothing, of course.
The atmosphere in the car shifts, grows heavier. Andrew and Thom both shift in their seats before pretending to fall asleep again, but the rhythm of their breathing never changes.
It's as if speaking those words aloud stirred something ancient, something better left sleeping. It makes my gut twitch, my ears perk. There's a story there, information to dig out. Secrets hidden.
Or maybe I'm growing fanciful in my old age.
Owen meets my eyes in the dim light of dawn. "If you don't know... you don't need to."
Damn.
Foiled again.
I lean back in my seat, keeping Lyre in my sight. The rising sun catches in her hair, setting the wild colors ablaze. I should feel threatened by the heaviness that's settled over us, by the clear warning in Owen's voice.
Instead, I'm hooked.
Good thing I've never listened to warnings.
Chapter forty-six
Jack-Eye: Rot and Rainbows
