137 Caine: Fraying
137 Caine: Fraying
CAINE
The storm’s wandered off, calming the air. But not me.
My skin doesn’t fit. My muscles twitch with excess energy. I pace the narrow confines of Lyre’s camper like something caged, each circuit bringing me closer to Grace, then forcing myself away.
Fenris is still outside. The blessing of the Lycan King–to have my wolf as a distinct entity. Right now, it feels like a curse. Double the chaos, double the pressure building with nowhere to go.
You need to settle, Fenris growls through our bond. The pups can sense your distress. You’re leaking it out.
I ignore him. Grace had pushed me away earlier, hands firm against my chest, eyes wild with panic. Smart girl. I understand why–the logical part of my brain even agrees with her caution–but the primal core of me seethes with rejection.
Her scent fills the confined space. Blueberry muffins, warm and sweet. It used to calm me. Now it agitates, hooks into something dark and hungry, demanding satisfaction.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Grace asks from behind me, her voice soft.
I close my eyes. “Fine.”
But I’m not. And she knows it.
Grace leans over the dinette table, gazing out the window where the children are playing under Fenris’s watchful eye. The now–bright skies highlight her face, the cascade of her artificially golden hair. She is soft, human, and thankfully oblivious to the war raging inside me.
Something’s wrong, Fenris says, agitation rushing his words. I feel out of control.
Me, too. Keep the kids outside, I snap. If they come in here… I don’t want to scare them again.
He huffs. Then, Don’t touch her.
137 Calne: Fraying
“I know,” I hiss. The words are anathema on my tongue, against every desire crashing through my body.
But I can’t walk away. Can’t leave her.
Can’t stay.
If you don’t get it together, I’m going to lose it too, Fenris warns. The young ones don’t need to see that.
I drag in a breath through my mouth, trying to center myself. But her scent permeates everything, amplifying with each heartbeat. It fills my lungs, curls through my blood.
Need, not peace.
I dig my fingers into my palms, tensing my body against the onslaught within.
Grace laughs suddenly, the sound light and musical. She turns to me, eyes bright with delight. “Did you see that? Bun—”
I snap.
My hand catches her arm, and I pull her in–too fast, too hard, but it doesn’t matter, because her soft, perfect little body is finally flush against mine. Her breath hitches, her words lost as my mouth crashes into hers.
The kiss is brutal. Hungry. A mistake. But the second our lips touch, everything inside me goes quiet.
Blessed stillness.
My hands slip to her hips, gripping tight–tight enough that a normal woman would bruise. But Grace just exhales against my mouth, her body stiff for half a second before she melts.
Her fingers find my hair. Her lips open under mine. She kisses me back, just as desperate, just as fucking gone under this damn temptation of our bond.
I groan into her mouth. I need her. Need all of her. To pin her, mark her, bury myself in her until the storm in me has nowhere left to go.
But then she hesitates, her lips no longer as pliable and soft, her body stiffening.
A breath caught wrong. A/tremble under my palms. She tries to speak, to null away,
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137 Caine: Fraying
and I don’t notice fast enough.
My mouth moves over hers again, teeth grazing soft skin. My hands slip under her shirt, her bra, my fingers flicking over her nipple. Skin. Heat. Hers.
She breaks the kiss, jerking back with a gasp. “Caine! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Outside, Fenris howls, the sound sharp with alarm. The kids shout in response.
I blink, my chest heaving. The world freezes around me. The pressure is gone, replaced by horrified clarity.
I jerk away, hands shaking. I’m an ass. I didn’t mean to, but-
Grace rubs her arms, eyes flashing a little at my reaction. “I mean, you don’t have to act like I’m contagious…”
But her words trickle off. She did the same thing just moments ago.
“I’m sorry,” I grate out, struggling to understand what just happened. The drive to claim her had been uncontrollable, unstoppable. I’ve only felt that kind of all–consuming need once before in my life, with–fuck.
I shake my head violently, trying to dislodge the thought. For one disorienting moment, another face overlays Grace’s. Another beautiful blonde, with cold eyes and a faint smirk… 5
“Are you okay?” Grace asks, her anger softening to concern.
Pain stabs, sharp and sudden, in my skull. I clutch my head, a growl escaping through clenched teeth. “I’m fine.”
You’re scaring her, Fenris snaps.
“You’re scaring the kids,” I snarl back.
Silence falls in my head, thick and heavy.
“Uh… Caine? This is weird, right?” She says after a moment, rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip. I follow the movement like a starving man. She seems to notice and drops her hand to awkwardly gesture toward the window. “Fenris seems a little… Are
from the storm, too?” you messed up
My hand lifts of its own accord, reaching for her again. I yank it back, dusted with
137 Caine: Fraying
myself. “I don’t know.”
“Caine…” She steps toward me, concern creasing her brow.
I back up until the counter hits my spine. She’s too close. Too soft. Too tempting The need to mate, to claim surges again, violent in its intensity.
She reaches out before I can stop her, brushing cool fingers against my forehead.
Everything stills.
The chaos in my mind goes quiet. The tension drains from my muscles. My lungs expand.
She frowns, staring at her hand. Then her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. “I think I can feel it.”
“Feel what?” My voice is barely audible, choked with the force of my restraint. Just one quick grab and I could flip us both, bend her over the counter, tear off the flimsy clothes she’s wearing and plunge deep inside while biting her neck until-
“The energy.” Her eyes widen with wonder. “I can really feel it. How it’s moving”
Hjerk away from her hand, terror replacing desire. If I give in to what I’m feeling, I could
kill her.
“Don’t touch me again.” The command comes out as a growl.
“No-” She shakes her head, stubborn as always. “I think I can stop it. If I try hard enough. Maybe. I’ll have to touch you again to make sure.” 2
I narrow my focus to the only thing that matters, the one ray of impossible hope in this nightmare. My voice comes out hoarse, stripped of all pretense.
“Are you sure?”
“Well, no. But maybe?” She touches my forehead again, and I grab onto the counter edges with a soft curse, telling myself not to grab her. Don’t throw her down like a wolf
in rut.
