Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Grace: Changing Overnight

The bodies are gone, leaving only a large, dark stain on the ground.

The sight is enough to bring me back to my senses, though. The moment I walked into Caine’s suite, my brain was scrambled. There’s only one thing I can pinpoint as the cause of my strange behavior: The man is just too attractive.

It’s stupid. I know it’s a stupid reason. But...

God. Was I always this type of person?

The window is cool and soothing as I rest my forehead against it, my sigh deep enough to wilt my entire body. I always considered myself a good person, someone with morals and loyalty.

My head thuds against the glass again. What kind of person am I becoming? Alpha’s blood stains the ground below, yet here I stand, thinking about the way Caine’s fingers felt against my skin.

"You’re disgusting," I mumble to myself, shuddering at my lack of humanity.

This pack helped raise me. Fed me. Gave me a home when I had none. Sure, they cast me aside the moment I proved useless, but still—they were my family for years.

I press my palm flat against the cold window. The chill helps clear my head, but not enough. My thoughts keep drifting to steel-gray eyes and calloused fingers, sending tingles through my body.

"Stop it, Grace." I smack my forehead against the glass again. It’s oddly comforting. "He’s a murderer. A monster."

But my traitorous mind replays how gentle his touch was while wrapping my wrist. How his presence made me feel safe despite everything he’s done. How he fed me, even if he seemed irritated about it.

What’s wrong with me? The pack members who died have families. Children who’ll grow up without parents. Mates left alone. And here I am, swooning over their killer like some deranged groupie.

My breath fogs the glass as I keep muttering to myself. "I’m going straight to hell. The deepest circle, where they keep the worst of the worst. Even Satan is judging me right now."

The strange part is how removed I feel from all this death. Like watching a movie instead of living through a massacre. Shouldn’t I be crying? Screaming? Something other than thinking about the way Caine’s jaw clenches when he’s angry? And maybe, just maybe, not paying any attention to the tiny corner of my brain that almost feels smug someone stood up to Alpha when he was so cruel to me.

Now that I acknowledge the feeling, it grows a little, stabbing holes into my conscience. It doesn’t care about the dead people, it’s primally satisfied the Lycan King stood up for me.

My stomach churns. This detachment isn’t normal. Neither is this pull toward the Lycan King. It’s like my moral compass shattered the moment he walked into my life.

It’s not me who’s changed. This has to be a side effect of his Lycan King-ness. Like a poison to the mind of humans.

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