Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Grace: What’s His

Mine.

The world buzzes in my ears, and time seems to slow.

Alpha’s standing now, veins protruding from his neck as he shouts at the Lycan King. Ellie’s yanking on Rafe’s arm, but he isn’t looking at her. He’s looking at me, his blue eyes dark and angry, as if I’ve somehow done something wrong.

My wrists and legs hurt where the rope still bites into my skin; there’s no doubt I’m the king’s captive, not anything he considers precious. And yet there’s my brain, lost and stuttering over his words.

Let me see who dares touch what’s mine.

Me? His?

My eyes return to the Lycan King, the source of this mess. His back is to me as he confronts my pack.

Muscles ripple beneath his shirt, each movement deliberate and controlled. The black ink of his tattoos shifts across his skin; at first, I thought of them as serpentine and slithery, but right now I can see they’re more like soft ropes of shadow caressing his skin. The patterns almost dance, mesmerizing in their fluid grace.

A bead of sweat rolls down Alpha’s temple as sound slowly comes back into focus, no longer buzzing in my ears. “High Alpha! What claim could you possibly have on this human?”

The Lycan King’s shoulders tense, his head tilting ever so slightly. “You dare demand explanations from me? Tell me, Brax, what gives you the right to question your king?”

Alpha lowers his head in submission. “High Alpha, I do not mean to demand anything—I only ask for clarification.” His words are polite, but his words come through gritted teeth.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd as the tension rackets up. And who turned the thermostat up to ninety? It’s so hot, it feels like noon in midsummer.

“I was the one. Grace and I have been dating for years.” Rafe’s voice cuts through the crowd as he strides forward, chin lifted high, every bit the entitled future alpha he was raised to be—but he looks like a child playing hero to my eyes, incomparable to the Lycan King standing before us.

“Rafe, stop!” Ellie’s hiss carries even over the murmuring crowd. Perfectly manicured nails dig into his forearm. “You’re making a scene. Think about what you’re doing.”

Rafe shakes her off, never once glancing back—his eyes are still locked on mine.

“Don’t you dare humiliate me like this.” Ellie’s whisper carries the edge of a growl. “Not in front of everyone. Not for that.”

The ink beneath the Lycan King’s skin darkens, like storm clouds gathering before lightning strikes. His fingers flex at his sides, and I can’t tear my eyes from the way the shadows seem to follow his movements, as if the tattoos themselves share his fury.

“You claim what’s mine?” The king asks, his words more growled than spoken.

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