Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 168

Chapter 168: Lyre: Separated, Again

LYRE

Watching my camper leave without me is a strange feeling. I’m more attached to it than entire castles I’ve had built in the past.

Every girl dreams of a castle.

It just turns out my favorite one is shaped like a box and gets dragged behind a truck.

A warm weight settles against my waist, and something inside me twitches, instinctively repulsed by any form of casual, possessive affection.

The offending appendage wrapped around my waist is large and tanned. A working hand. A fighter’s hand. A hand with no business settling on my waist like it belongs there.

"You okay?" Aaron murmurs, leaning down so his breath is hot against my ear.

"That depends. Are you particularly attached to this hand?"

He pulls back immediately, the warmth vanishing.

Smart.

"I was just checking on you," he says, keeping a careful half-an-arm’s-length distance. "You seem worried."

"I’m fine." Do I look like I need babysitting? I know my fancy Korean facial creams make my skin glow, but it isn’t as if I’m as young as I look.

Thankfully.

Because then I’d be a sentient pile of dirt.

I pop the trunk of our SUV and toss my bag in, and Thom pops out of the backseat to follow at my elbow like a lovesick puppy.

"Lyre, I’ve been thinking about how we might approach the tracking when we—"

"Get in the backseat, wizard."

He blinks through his ridiculous copper-wired glasses. "I—but I thought we should—"

"Backseat."

He deflates and shuffles back to the rear door, now a kicked lovesick puppy.

I sigh.

Managing these men is going to be awful.

Sliding into the front passenger seat before Aaron can even think about it, I click my seatbelt into place and stare at the side of Owen’s face. "Your place first, right?"

Aaron’s left to go in the back, where he crams his tall frame behind Owen’s seat. He looks like he’s considering various methods of angelic decapitation. Behind the driver is the worst spot for someone his size, but it isn’t my fault he didn’t get in the car before the wizard.

Owen starts the engine without another word.

"So, where the hell are we going?" Aaron asks, his knee knocking against the back of Owen’s seat in what I suspect is a completely intentional move.

The angel-descendant doesn’t react. He probably has the patience of a saint.

"I can begin tracking now," Thom pipes up, poking his head between us as he leans forward. "I still have the energy from our—" His cheeks flush as he looks at me out of the side of his eye. "From before."

"Sit back, wizard."

"Yes, ma’am."

Even without looking, I know Aaron’s grinding his molars against each other.

"We’re not tracking yet," I announce. "We’re going to Owen’s place first."

"The cave? Why?" This time the Lycan’s the one to lean forward and shove his face in my space, and I press my palm against it to push him back.

He doesn’t budge, and his tongue flicks out against my palm.

"Damn. I think it’s broken this time. You know that can kill a lesser man, right?"

"Are you a lesser man?"

Owen makes a small noise, his shoulders shaking. I’m pretty sure it’s amusement. Good to know he can laugh. It’s hard with angels—they’re not exactly known for their sense of humor. Serious is their default.

There’s enough rustling in the back seat to assume Aaron’s grabbed one of the confetti napkins to stem whatever bleeding I not-accidentally-this-time caused.

His smug satisfaction radiates through the car in the form of syrupy sweet pheromones. He thinks getting a rise out of me counts as a win, as if I haven’t spent far too many lifetimes dealing with creatures more irritating than a freckled wolf with boundary issues.

"So, what’s the difference between a wizard and a warlock anyway? I’ve been meaning to ask."

Thom squeaks a little. "W-we’re the same thing. Wizard. Warlock. Magician. Sorcerer. Witches. We’re all the same."

"Huh. Then why so many names?"

"I don’t know."

I stare out the window at the passing landscape as Jack-Eye continues to quiz the wizard, feeling oddly hollow out of nowhere as we ride through the rough terrain. We could probably run faster than this car is going, but I’m not much for exercise.

This body is maintained through a bad diet and over-reliance on arcana. Gained ten pounds? A blast of arcana goes a long way.

Not through magic liposuction, but energy costs. Throwing a ton of arcana around will eat through calories in no time. Who needs a healthy diet when they can lose weight almost at will?

Granted, it also means our hunger can be insatiable at times...

Thom clears his throat from the backseat. I guess their conversation’s already done. "Are you—do you need me after we get Owen’s car?"

"Yes, wizard."

Judging by the faint growl coming from Jack-Eye’s corner, Thom’s beaming.

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