Grace of a Wolf

Chapter 158: Caine: He’s Besotted

CAINE

If my mate didn’t have so much loyalty to the rainbow-haired witch, I’d kill her on the spot.

She might have magic, but as far as I can tell, her physical combat ability is closer to nil than average. Even magic requires time, and a Lycan is fast. A Lycan King is even faster.

But I keep my hands fisted and force down the instinctive urge to shift, even as Fenris yawns in the back of my head. Are you two done now?

Once he was able to check on Grace, his anger dissipated. It might have something to do with leftover slices of bacon Lyre tossed his way, because even the great Lycan King’s wolf—apparently—is willing to sell his soul for a bit of meat.

Bacon isn’t just any meat, Fenris grumbles.

Lyre turns her back to me, storming toward the SUV. Each step thuds against the ground with fury.

Jack-Eye’s reaction to her is concerning. My Beta’s eyes follow her swaying hips with the same desperate focus of a starving Fenris watching bacon sizzle. There’s no mistaking the look—he’s fucking besotted with the witch.

When isn’t he obsessed with women? the wolf in question mutters with disgust. If it’s a warm hole, he’s there. At least bacon is practical.

I don’t bother responding. I’m too busy mentally cataloging which of these idiots needs a leash the most. At the moment, my own Beta is winning by a landslide.

The witch marches straight toward the Blue Mountain pup, who’s leaning against the vehicle fiddling with his phone. Before he can even look up, she grabs him by the shirt and yanks him half off his feet.

"Where’s your loyalty at?" she snaps, her cat-like eyes narrowed to slits.

Andrew’s eyes go wide with shock. Before he can answer, Thom floats over like this is some kind of romantic comedy instead of a real-life threat, hovering near Lyre’s shoulder with a pathetic look of devotion.

It’s nauseating.

Somehow, the witch has managed to scramble my wizard’s brains.

"I’m loyal to Gra—" the pup stammers.

A low growl rolls out of Fenris, vibrating through my chest and into the air around us.

Grace is mine.

I don’t need to speak the words aloud. The dominance blanketing the area says it for me.

Andrew’s eyes dart in my direction. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. "I mean—the Lycan King. Our High Alpha," he corrects himself, sounding a little steadier, even though his eyes are far too wide.

I narrow mine.

I’d already suspected this one had his sights where they didn’t belong. Grace has been surrounded by too many wolves who think they have a right to her. This pup from her old pack is just one more problem I’ll need to eliminate if he doesn’t learn his place.

His absence lowered his priority level, but now...

Careful, Fenris warns, though he sounds like he’s ready to rip the pup’s throat out himself. I think Grace likes him.

My fist tightens.

Not that way, of course. She’s ours.

Right. Of course not. My mate would never. She has much better taste.

Then again, she dated that pathetic pup of an Alpha...

Calm down before you explode, my wolf advises.

Like he isn’t grumbling and snorting with hackles high in my head.

Lyre grips Andrew’s face between her fingers, squeezing his cheeks until his lips pucker like a fish, and leans in close.

"If you’re lying, I’ll haunt your dreams and rip your heart out while it’s still beating," she whispers, her voice knife-sharp and clear to my enhanced hearing. "You think toads are the worst I can do?"

The color drains from the pup’s face. I snort. No backbone at all. noveldrama

"No, ma’am," he mumbles through compressed lips.

Lyre releases him with a shove and wipes her hands on Jack-Eye’s shirt without even looking. He’s nothing more than a convenient towel.

And Jack-Eye—my supposedly lethal, competent Beta—beams like she just proposed marriage.

Something’s happened between them. Something I’m sure I won’t like.

I’ll have to interrogate him later. Maybe when Grace takes a nap with little Bun.

If this man starts following the witch around like the pathetic wizard is, he’s out of the pack. No exceptions. I don’t care how long he’s served as my second. I won’t have my entire operation compromised by men thinking with their knots.

As if you would get rid of your most loyal pack member, Fenris snorts.

I scowl.

Lyre’s sharp gaze does a sweep of the group. She frowns at Thom, who jerks and shrinks back. Then she turns and glares directly at me.

I stare back, unmoved by her attempt at intimidation as my lip lifts off my teeth. If she wants to start this fight over, I’ll gladly oblige. I’m still pissed at her little trick from earlier.

Finally, her attention shifts to Jack-Eye, who’s still grinning like an idiot, only a step behind Thom’s vacuous gaze.

"Where’s Owen?" she asks, her voice sharp again.

Andrew’s the first to answer, pointing toward the RV immediately. "Inside," he says, clearly desperate to hand her off to someone else.

I snort.

As far as I’ve been able to deduce, that insipid Alpha should be appointing this one as his new Beta. They’re quite the pair. Blue Mountain will be doomed before the next generation, unless an Alpha comes to challenge him.

Alpha challenges aren’t as common since I came into power, but they’re not unheard of.

Lyre turns on her heel and storms to the camper, sending a nasty glare my way as she passes.

The witch’s insubordination burns under my skin. Magic or not, there are limits to what I’ll tolerate, especially from someone standing between me and my mate.

She’s amusing, at least, Fenris offers lazily.

She’s a problem, I counter.

A problem who feeds me bacon.

My wolf’s loyalty is pathetic.

A movement to my right draws my attention. Jack-Eye watches Lyre climb the camper steps, his gaze once again fixed on her hips. I fight the urge to slam his head into the nearest tree—which isn’t very close at all.

His expression is nothing short of worship—the man looks like he’s ready to drop to his knees and beg for a crumb of her attention.

Jack-Eye finally notices my gaze on him and has the decency to look chagrined. A sheepish grin spreads across his face, his shoulders lifting in a helpless shrug.

"Sorry, boss," he says cheerfully. "I’m just weak for strong women."

"Moderate yourself."

He nods, standing straighter, trying to pull himself together. "Yes, sir."

It’s not enough. Not by a long shot. But I don’t have time for this right now.

I need to make sure my mate isn’t caught in the middle of whatever bullshit the witch is tangled in.

With a final warning look at my Beta, I stalk after Lyre.