“No shit.”
She punches in numbers, holds the phone to her ear.
“We could drive her, but moving her might-“
She breaks off, attention shifting to the call.
“Yes, medical emergency. My friend, a young woman, is unconscious and unresponsive after…”
A quick glance at Grace’s shorts, still on. She frowns at me.
“After intercourse.”
There’s a volley of questions, and Lyre answers them decisively as I pull Grace’s limp body into my arms, fighting a growl when she reaches out to check her pulse.
“No, no visible trauma,”
Lyre says, and I flinch.
Do they think I…? No. It wasn’t like that.
I stroke Grace’s hair, noticing Fenris behind Lyre. He’s flat on the ground, his eyes never leaving Grace.
Will she be okay?
My heart constricts at the question. I’d just accepted this tiny, frail little human as mine. And now…
It’s only proof humans can never be mates with a wolf.
No, Fenris murmurs. Our bond would never hurt her.
And yet it has.
Lyre sits beside me, rubbing her hand down Grace’s back. Her phone’s on the couch across the room, she must have hung up.
She’s not panicked. Angry, yes. The acrid scent of fury radiates from her. But she’s not afraid.
“She’ll be okay,”
Lyre says confidently.
“Probably going to need some fluids to help stabilize, though.”
My eyes narrow. She knows something.
“What’s wrong with her?”
Lyre’s multi-colored hair falls forward as she leans closer to Grace, and I fight back the growl trying to escape my chest.
“Her energy is… depleted. Dangerously so.”
“What does that mean?”
I demand.
“It means you took too much.”
She shoots me a venomous look.
“You didn’t hold back. Just took everything she had to give, you brainless sack of muscle.”
“I didn’t-“
“You did,”
she cuts me off. Then she pauses.
“Maybe not intentionally. But you did.”
She places a hand on Grace’s forehead, then over her heart. The touch, though clearly medical, makes Fenris snarl. I swallow the sound before it can escape.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
I snap. Better to be angry with someone. It’s easier to handle anger.
Lyre laughs-a harsh, humorless sound.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to give the terrifying Lycan King sex education before he fucked her senseless? My bad.”
My temper flares hot and dangerous.
“You left us alone, but you knew this could happen, didn’t you?”
Lyre meets my rage with a flat, unblinking stare. Those cat-slitted eyes don’t waver, don’t flinch. Something in her gaze-the absolute absence of fear-makes my anger shrivel like a flame doused with ice water.
It isn’t from backing down.
It’s from the blame her stare lays on my shoulders. Blame rightfully placed.
I did this, somehow.
“I never expected the big, bad Lycan King to be so fucking useless he’d drain his own mate,”
she says, her voice low and deliberate.
“Guess that’s on me for assuming basic competence.”
CAINE
“Put Grace down,”
Lyre says.
“No.”
No, Fenris echoes.
My arms tighten around my limp mate, clutching her to my chest. I refuse to let her go. My lips press against her temple, feeling how cool her skin is. Her breathing’s shallow. Her pulse is weak.
The thought of letting her go-even for a moment-stabs through me like silver.
“Put. Her. Down,”
Lyre orders, as if commanding the Lycan King is something she can do on a whim.
“Your emotions are all over her right now. She doesn’t need your panic seeping into what little energy she has left.”
“No.”
Lyre’s slitted eyes narrow further.
“Do you want to kill her?”
Of course not. She’s the other half of my soul. The fated connection I’d denied is burning bright in my chest, rattled by the thought of losing her.
Losing a mate is hard, but the thought of losing Grace is… impossible. Dying would be preferable.
Lyre sighs and stomps out of the room, shaking the camper with each step. A short while later, she’s back, with a soft white t-shirt.
“Here. You can put this on her.”
Grace’s torn shirt is still on the floor, and shame washes through me at the evidence of my lack of control. Everything that happened between us had been perfect, transcendent-until it wasn’t.
Pathetic fool. I should have held back. It was obvious a human couldn’t handle what we have between us.
She can handle it, Fenris insists. Something is wrong. It isn’t our bond. The Goddess would not allow it.
With the greatest reluctance, I lower Grace back onto the bed. Lyre doesn’t waste time, pushing in beside me to slip the shirt over Grace’s head. She’s like a ragdoll, without even a hint of resistance.
Even the scent of blueberries is faint, hard to pinpoint in the mix of other smells.
“I need to stay with her.”
My hands hover uselessly above Grace’s still form.
“I need to fix this.”
“She’ll be fine. She needs rest more than anything. But you…”
Lyre frowns, smacking my hands away.
“You have something else to do. Go put your clothes on.”
I want to snap at this strange enigma of a woman, but Grace holds her in great affection. If I hurt her…
The thought of Grace’s beautiful, grass-green eyes staring at me with accusation makes my stomach quiver. It seems I’ve acquired many new fears today.
Deciding upon magnanimity, I ignore Lyre’s audacity and grab my shirt off the floor, pulling it on. The fabric feels restrictive, unwelcome against my skin.
A strange emptiness gnaws at me-something beyond the paralyzing fear of losing Grace. My body feels different. Lighter. As if something coiled within me for years has loosened its grip.
Even Fenris’s presence feels… clearer, somehow.
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.