"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 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 theyarequite 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 a bit.
"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—actuallylaughing—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."
Chapter thirty
Lyre: Let's All Calm Down
