I add,
“he might be a bit… intense when he sees you.”
Her smile falters.
“Intense how?”
“The ‘I’m going to smother you with my overprotective wolf-king energy until you can’t breathe’ kind of intense. After what happened last time-“
I pause, watching comprehension dawn in her eyes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. So maybe avoid physical contact until we’re sure you’ve recovered. I’d hate to have to explain to the hospital staff why you’re back in a coma.”
Though, I’m sure Caine will never let her out of his sight again.
Which is going to be a problem.
Before she can respond, a commotion echoes from the hallway-heavy footsteps and voices, one deep and rumbling with barely contained emotion.
Caine.
Grace sits up straighter, unconsciously smoothing her hair. It’s so painfully obvious how she feels, and I can’t help but sigh. All that beauty, tied to an emotional brick wall with anger issues.
Seven hundred years, and I still don’t understand the mating bond’s peculiar sense of matchmaking. Though, Grace has her own ability to emulate an emotional rock, so I suppose they are quite the pair.
The footsteps grow louder, and then he’s there-the Lycan King himself, filling the doorway with his massive frame, eyes locked on Grace like she’s the only thing in the universe.
Mate bonds.
Most people find them romantic. I find them cloying, contrived, and annoying.
The raw emotion on his face makes my face scrunch up. There’s something compelling about witnessing such naked vulnerability from someone who works so hard to appear invulnerable-on television.
In person? Blech. I know it comes with a whole side of overbearing and obnoxious.
Grace rises to her feet, swaying slightly.
“Grace,”
he breathes, like she’s Divinity and he’s her supplicant.
And then he’s moving toward her with single-minded focus, arms already reaching.
Right on cue.
I lunge between them, throwing my body into Caine’s path just as he’s about to embrace her. His arms close around me instead, and for one horrifying second, I’m trapped in the Lycan King’s bear hug.
We both freeze.
His face-millimeters from mine-contorts with shock and revulsion. I’m pretty sure my expression mirrors his.
“What. The. FUCK.”
His voice is a strangled growl as he releases me with such force I nearly stumble.
I smooth down my shirt, suppressing a shudder.
“Unless you want to send her back to the hospital, keep your paws to yourself.”
Caine steps back like I’ve slapped him, his eyes darting to Grace.
“Are you still…?”
Grace, the traitor, is laughing-actually laughing-tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
“Your faces,”
she manages between giggles.
“I wish I had a camera.”
“This isn’t funny,”
Caine growls, but the way his eyes linger on her laughter suggests he doesn’t entirely mean it.
“I don’t know,”
she says, wiping at her eyes.
“It was pretty funny.”
His expression softens, just for a moment, before hardening again as his attention shifts back to me.
“Touch me again and I’ll-“
“You’ll what?”
I cut in, baring my teeth in a smile that’s just a little too sharp.
“Please, finish that sentence. I’m dying to hear what you think you could do to me.”
LYRE
Jack-Eye steps forward, hands raised.
“Let’s all calm down.”
I ignore him.
“Do you want to send her back to intensive care? Because that’s what will happen if you drain her again. Energy transference isn’t a joke.”
Caine’s jaw works as he processes this, his desire to touch Grace warring with his need to keep her safe. It’s almost endearing how much his instincts conflict with each other.
Finally, he moves to a cushion near Grace-close, but not touching-and sits with the stiff posture of someone expecting an attack at any moment.
“Where is Fenris?”
Grace asks, leaning forward but keeping her hands to herself.
“Recuperating,”
Caine answers shortly. His gaze never leaves her face, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.
“He used a lot of energy.”
The way his voice darkens tells me there’s more to the story, but now isn’t the time to pry. His brain’s somewhere else, I’m sure, the kind of place it shouldn’t be with children under the same roof. Thankfully, they’re in the other room.
Then his attention shifts to me and Owen.
Huh.
Maybe I’m wrong. The man’s upper brain is still working.
“What is this place?”
the overbearing brute demands.
“Why is Grace here?”
Grace moves so suddenly I almost don’t catch her in time. One moment she’s sitting there all wide-eyed innocence, the next her hand is reaching toward Caine’s arm with an instinctive need to comfort.
I lunge forward, smacking her hand away before contact.
“No touching!”
Grace’s mouth drops open in shock as she cradles her hand against her chest. Not that I hurt her-I’d never-but the surprise of it stings worse than the tap itself, I’m sure.
Caine, predictable as the tide, snarls at me. A rumbling, guttural sound that would make most creatures soil themselves and beg for mercy. His eyes flash dangerously, muscles tensing as he prepares to launch.
Seven hundred years is plenty of time to lose patience with this particular brand of alpha male posturing.
I flick my finger toward him-a casual gesture, like brushing away a particularly annoying insect-and the air responds instantly, condensing into a wave that slams into Caine’s chest and throws him backward into the stone wall.
The impact makes a satisfying thud. Nothing that would actually hurt him, just enough force to rattle his oversized ego. The cushions scatter around him as he slides down to the floor, his expression a spectacular blend of shock and fury.
Owen, lurking near the entrance, makes a strangled sound. Poor thing. Probably contemplating which exit strategy won’t get him killed.
“Do you both think I’m joking?”
I ask, looking between Grace and Caine.
“That I’m just being dramatic for fun?”
Silence hangs in the air.
Jack-Eye clears his throat.
“Well-she did say no touching.”
At least one of them is smart.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.