Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47: Caine: Knock Like a Normal Person

The campground entrance is easy to miss, hidden in the darkness without any streetlights to mark it. Thankfully, many of the campers parked here have LED lighting strips along their rigs, and I slow before I miss the turn.

"Where?" I demand.

Thom closes his eyes, concentrating. "Keep going. She’ll be on our left. I’ll know when we get closer."

I drive deeper into the campground, wheels crunching on gravel. Rolling my window down seems like a mistake at first. The place reeks of humans—their food, their waste, their cheap alcohol. But beneath it all, I catch hints of her scent, growing stronger.

"That interference," Thom mumbles, seemingly to himself. "It’s stronger here. Almost like..."

"Like what?" I snap.

"Like something’s deliberately masking her." He opens his eyes, pupils dilated. "Something old."

Jack-Eye opens his own window, shoving his head outside to breathe in deep. "There’s a shifter... Blue Mountain."

I can smell him, too.

"There." Thom points to a large RV. The lot next to it isn’t empty, but only holds a blue sedan and a tent. "She’s there."

I park the car on the opposite side of the road and kill the engine, and Jack-Eye slides out of the car with languid ease. "I’ll deal with the traitor."

I grunt at them both, reaching for Grace’s pillow with fingers that itch to crush something. One brief caress over the soft fabric. One deep breath of her scent—blueberry muffins, mixed with fabric softener.

My chest loosens as the pillow’s scent cuts through the noise in my head.

"Stay here," I tell Thom without looking at him.

The warlock slumps in relief. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Opening the car door, I step out into the night, vaguely irritated by the humid heat despite the sun having set long ago.

Each breath I take now isn’t filtered through the car’s ventilation system, and her scent grows stronger. She’s close. My muscles coil with anticipation.

Fenris materializes beside me, his massive form condensing into something more mundane—at first glance he appears to be a large black dog rather than a monstrous wolf. Even his ethereal blue glow has dimmed to almost nothing, just the faintest shimmer visible only if you know to look for it.

Remember—calm and unthreatening, Fenris says as he pads beside me. She’s already frightened enough to run.

"I know," I mutter through clenched teeth.

Do you? Your face suggests otherwise.

I force my features to relax, though the effort feels like trying to reshape stone. If I approach her with all the rage burning inside me, I’ll only drive her further away.

There are things I’ve done to reassure her she’s safe. I didn’t kill the Forest Springs Alpha. Or her boyfriend. I wanted to, but I didn’t; I even held Fenris back. This should be enough to prove she can return without worries.

Pride in my self-restraint rises, just in time for the crunch of gravel to draw my attention to the nearby tent.

A young man emerges, his scent far too familiar. What was his name?

Andrew, Fenris growls, the sound carrying through the quiet night air.

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