Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 102: Grace: Pack

Bun continues to scarf at her piece of buttered toast with all the hunger of someone who hasn’t eaten in a month, even if her chubby little rolls bely her actions.

Her death grip on my shirt has loosened significantly as her focus shifts entirely to the food.

"I see how it is," I murmur against her hair. "Food trumps fear every time."

Her eyes, wide and shining, meet mine as she chews. For the tiniest moment, I swear they change from brown to blue, then back again. Another piece of toast disappears into her mouth.

Ron peels a banana and leans over, holding it out in his hand like he’s trying to coax a wild animal. "Want some banana? Your favorite."

Bun turns at the sound of his voice, her entire body going rigid. The halfhearted smile on Ron’s face falters as her mouth opens and an ear-splitting shriek fills the cave.

No words. Just pure, agonizing, shrill shrieking as she throws herself back against my chest with enough force for me to tip over. I catch myself with one hand on the floor, and Caine jerks toward me like he’s going to catch me. Thankfully, one of the toddler’s flailing fists whacks his hand away before our skin can touch.

"Sorry," Ron mutters, backing away with the rejected banana. The defeat in his eyes makes my chest ache.

"She’s adjusting," Caine tells him, pulling Bun out of my arms with practiced efficiency. Even with her wild, maniacal movements, he swoops her into his embrace without a blink.

She screams louder, and he walks away, heading into the kitchen. "Pups who scream don’t eat," he warns her with a steady, stern voice.

The decibels continue to climb.

Sara scoots a little closer to Ron and snags the toast from his plate.

"Hey!" He scowls, but doesn’t make a move to grab it back.

Without missing a beat, she rolls her eyes. "Oh please, you weren’t even going to eat it. And it’s going cold."

"It was already cold," Ron grumbles, but there’s no heat behind it.

Bun’s screaming stops abruptly; she’s angrily chewing on a piece of apple, staring at me over Caine’s shoulder. My ability to translate baby facial expressions is still new, but I’m pretty sure she’s giving me the you’ve-betrayed-me look.

I glance away. Making eye contact seems like a bad idea.

Jer’s stabbing at his eggs without actually eating them, so I focus on him instead. There’s a plate of sliced apples next to me—Caine must have put them there. I slide them toward the kid without a word.

At first, I think he doesn’t notice. Then, without looking up, he reaches for an apple slice and pops it into his mouth. His shoulders drop a fraction of an inch.

It’s all so quietly domestic, my heart swells a little, even as my panic continues in the background of my head.

This is a pack. Not the one I was adopted into, nothing so shallow as to discard each other the moment something changes. But a real pack, nonetheless, messy and awkward and forming before my eyes. freёnovelkiss.com

And Caine? He’s a part of it, too.

He seems okay with it. More than me, and I’m the one drawn to these kids in a way I can’t explain, even to myself.

"You okay?" Caine’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I’m staring at nothing, probably looking crazy, and he’s only a few feet away now, frowning in my direction.

Bun’s no longer reaching for me, both hands full of mushy apple, cheeks bulging. He hasn’t exactly won her over, but it looks like they’ve achieved some sort of truce.

"I’m okay. I was just thinking."

He watches the children for a moment, his expression thoughtful. They’re almost done eating, but Jer’s only had a few pieces of apple. I’m not sure any egg has made it past the murderous fork to get into his belly. "They’re nervous."

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. Owen not being here has them spooked. He’s their savior, so it makes sense.

"Lyre, Owen, and Jack-Eye should be back soon," he says casually, loud enough for everyone to hear. "They’re hunting down the perpetrator from last night."

He doesn’t mention Andrew or his little wizard tagalong, and I wonder if they’re with the group or settled elsewhere.

All three of the older kids’ heads snap up in unison, attention locked on Caine.

"What about the others?" I ask, playing along.

"They’re helping," he says vaguely, and I wonder if he doesn’t know, either. He doesn’t seem terribly concerned about them. "But things are going to change around here now that the Great One is dead."

Sara’s fork clatters against her plate. "The Great One is dead?" Her voice pitches higher than normal. "For real? Really-really?"

"How do you know? Are you sure?" Jer demands, leaning forward.

Both of them talk over each other, their voices rising with each question.

"When is Owen coming back?"

"Is he okay?"

"Was it really the girl with the rainbow hair?" That’s Sara—she must have been listening when we were talking to Lyre yesterday. A mild surprise, considering how overwhelmed she was by Caine’s mere presence.

Caine holds up a hand, and they fall silent immediately. It’s a kind of instant obedience coming from somewhere deep in their shifter bones, responding to the presence of the Lycan King.

"Soon," he says, his voice calm and certain. "It won’t take them long to root out the rest of the problems here."

Sara’s shoulders visibly relax, and Jer exhales slowly, nodding to himself. Ron, however, watches the Lycan with a measured gaze. Unlike the younger ones, he understands—this isn’t as simple as killing one monster and being done. His eyes flick to mine, and I recognize the weight of knowledge there.

"So we’re safe?" the older girl asks, her voice smaller than I’ve heard it before.

"You’re safe," Caine confirms. His eyes meet mine, conveying more than his words. "Nothing’s getting past me."

Even I believe him when he says it like that.

Bun shifts in his arms, looking up at him with her tiny fingers opening and closing in a universal "gimme" gesture. Ron jumps up and hands her the rejected banana offering from earlier, and she coos happily.

He grins.

It’s the most relaxed look I’ve ever seen on his face, and I want to hug him with relief.

"Always hungry, that one," Sara says with the weary authority of someone three times her actual age. "Owen says it’s the shifting that does it. Burns a lot of energy."

"It does," Caine confirms, settling her on his hip as he heads back to the kitchen area. "Especially when you’re young and growing. You were probably the same as a pup."

"I’m not a pup," she says, stuffing toast in her mouth.

"You are now."

"Huh." She chews thoughtfully.

Ron watches Bun, smiling when she drops a chunk of banana on the floor. She stares over Caine’s shoulder with watery eyes, as if her older brother can somehow magic it back into her hands.

"She seems adaptable," I murmur, glad to see a more uplifted look on his face.

"Babies usually are."