Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 209: Grace: Commando

One tiny jar of applesauce can make an enormous mess.

It’s bathed half the living room, the ceiling, a toddler, and a dog. The cat, miraculously, escaped. Jer and Sara

were lucky enough to be on the far side of the room.

One awkward water-conserving shower later is when | realize no one’s kept up with the laundry.

Bun has no clean clothes. Zero. Zilch. She’s now running around naked with a diapered bottom, Ron’s missing,

and I'm out of underwear.

"Where's Ron?"

"Outside," Jer says, fiddling with the TV remote. Now that we're hooked up to electricity, the RV has full wi-fi

access via something-or-another and they're browsing the TV, arguing on the merits of turtles with access to

samurai swords versus kids bitten by radioactive spiders and acquiring superhuman prowess.

"Why is he outside?" | ask sharply, even though it feels a little weird to be upset with a kid barely younger than

me. How am | supposed to discipline him? Bend him over my knee and spank him? Yeah, right.

But still, he shouldn't be outside—

"He's talking to Caine," Sara continues, snatching the remote from Jer.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"No way."

| peer through the window to check and sure enough, Ron's sitting on the camper steps. Caine’s in front of him,

arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. Is he berating the teenager?

Seems like it.

My first instinct is to bolt outside. Whatever's happening between them, Ron shouldn't be facing Caine alone. He

might be tall and overly responsible, but he’s still just a kid.

Then an air conditioning-propulsed breeze hits my legs, and | remember my current predicament. No underwear,

which is not exactly printervention attire.

It's amazing how much confidence a pair of panties can bring your way. Try walking around in public without

them.

If it doesn’t feel any different, kudos to you, but me? | feel naked.

"Jer, Sara, keep an eye on Bun for a second," | call over my shoulder, not waiting for their response.

"We're busy!" Jer protests, still wrestling with Sara over the remote.

"She's eating paper," Sara adds casually, not even looking at the toddler.

| whip around to see Bun happily shredding what appears to be tissues, as evidenced by the bright green

Kleenex box beside her.

Damn.

"Con, guys. Watch her. Just—don’t let her choke, okay? Two minutes."

"Fiiiine," they chorus with identical groans.

| dash into Lyre’s bedroom, shutting the door behind me, desperate to find my last bit of undergarment armor.

A plaintive whine from the bathroom interrupts my search.

"Shit," | mutter. Sadie. I'd completely forgotten about her.

The golden retriever’s been locked in the shower stall since I rinsed the applesauce off her tail. The bathroom

now reeks of wet dog and artificial apples, which is not a pleasant combination.

"Just a little longer, girl," | call through the door. "As soon as | find sclothes."

Another whine, this one distinctly accusatory. | can sense it. | may not be a professional dog trainer, but this

whine definitely says something like Can you hurry up? I'm dying in here.

"I know, | know. It’s not my fault Bun decided to use applesauce as a projectile weapon. Givea bit and I'll

take you outside to dry off."

| tear through the dresser drawers, looking for underwear. My last clean pair is apparently victim of applesauce

carnage.

The laundry situation has reached crisis levels, and | had no idea.

Mom of the Year. Again.

How many awards can | accrue in a day? I'm probably going to end up in the Guinness book of records.

All | find in the drawers is an assortment of lace, silk, and what appears to be something made entirely of straps,

and none of it is mine. | close that drawer quickly.

Lyre and I might have bonded over supernatural disasters and hair dye, but we are absolutely not panty-sharing

close. There are boundaries, and that’s definitely one of them.

| slam the final drawer shut with a groan. The few drawers I've stolen as my own are nearing levels of

apocalyptic—in other words, empty, empty, empty.

| have to go commando.

Pulling on a pair of Lyre’s clean jeans, which are a size too small and giveserious muffin top syndrome, tug at

the crotch area a few times, wishing the spandex percentage was at least doubled.

I'm about to confront an alpha werewolf while wearing zero underwear. There's probably a metaphor for my life

somewhere in that. And it’s unlikely to be complimentary.

| wonder if he can smell the absence of panties. | sure as hell hope not.

That would make things awkward.

Just before | leave, | crack open the bathroom door. Sadie looks up atwith betrayed eyes, her golden fur still

damp thanks to the wrestling match her mini-shower had turned into, but she’s still perky and her tail wags with

excitement.

"Con. Let's go outside and confront a wolf king."

Her tail droops.

* kK

"Ouch!"

Sadie launches herself through the doorway like a golden torpedo, slamming the door wide enough to crack

against the unlucky someone on the others ide.

Peering around the edge of the door, | find Ron scowling at me, one hand rubbing the back of his head where the

door must have connected. His dark eyes narrow with teenage affront, and | smile weakly.

"Sorry..."

Sadie, completely oblivious to the chaos she’s caused, bounds down the camper steps and side-steps Caine

warily before bounding into the grass to squat.

"That dog has issues," Ron mutters, dropping his hand from his head.

"She’s not my dog," | mumble, though the argument feels increasingly thin. Sadie certainly behaves like she’s

mine, even if she technically belonged to a pair of weird old people and | still feel kind of guilty she’s with us.

Seriously, this is either considered dog-napping or I've left two dead old people to be discovered by some

hapless camper in the future. Granted, they keep saying Doris and her husband aren't dead, but still...

Man, life is weird these days.

Caine watches our exchange. His face gives nothing away, but | know him well enough now to read the tension

in his shoulders. He's unhappy.

Okay, it’s not really rocket science—the frown on his face gives it away more than his tense shoulders.

Clearing my throat, | point at the unconscious Lycan several feet away and bring up the most pressing issue at

hand. "Can you take that away?"

Caine’s eyes don’t even flicker toward his unconscious subordinate. Instead, his gaze locks onto mine with laser

focus, his expression hardening. "Why was Raphael here?"

Ah, shit. I'm not ready for this conversation.

Not because I'm hiding anything—I’m not, | swear—but because it's...

Well, let's be honest.

It's embarrassing.

Like, seriously embarrassing. Who

wants to tell their mate their ex came

by and tried to mg ieree {ike 1)

Roly theirmistes was sgreat

honor? Seriously, it makesfeel

f f )

dirty and gross and | still haven't

really wrapped my brain around the

stupidity of the situation yet. The

content is on novelenglish.net! Read

the latest chapter there!

| drop my eyes to the grass between

us, suddenly fascinated by the

remnants of a nee puftfree.

Eehop Gy eck, and |

desperately wish | had a pair of

panties. Somehow, this situation

would feel easier to deal with if | was

wearing underwear. The content is

on novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

Shut up. It makes sense in my head.

"Nothing important," | mumble, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

| can’t meet his eyes, so | stare at Sadie instead. She stares back as she squeezes her feet as close as they can

get and desecrates the lawn further.

Damn. I'm going to have to pick that up later, aren't I?

Then | see Ron rolling his eyes.

Caine’s voice deepens, sending an awkward quiver through me. "Grace. Why aren't you tellingthe truth?"

Excuse me. That is the truth. It was very much not important.

But instead of giving him a confident amount of sass, | mumble, "It's really nothing. He showed up, spouted a

bunch of nonsense, and I handled it."

And | did handle it. Sort of. | slapped him and then kneed his balls and he fell down the stairs, and I'm pretty sure

that counts as handling it.

But my mind keeps circling back to a

different, safer question, and | try to

change the SuledyppputnTch.

SyeHmbanits L phatically at the

a ) a o

unconscious body we're all ignoring.

n H

More importantly, why was your guy

trying to break down our door? He

q " ]

was threatening us!" The content is

on novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

Caine’s expression shifts from possessively jealous boyfriend interrogation to exasperation. The hard lines soften

as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, exhaling a long, controlled breath.

It's the closest thing to resignation | think I've ever seen on his face.

"l apologize," he says finally, dropping his hand. "He was sent to protect you."

I scoff.

Ron says, "I had the sreaction," and lifts his hand in my direction.

Belatedly, | realize he’s asking for a high-five, and | give it to him with a faintly puzzled feeling. Was this a high-

five worthy moment?

Apparently it was, because he shootsa lopsided grin, apparently harboring no ill will for smashing the back

of his head in with the door. Then again, that was technically Sadie’s fault.

Caine sighs again. "I've talked to my men, and it won't happen again."

My puzzled smile freezes and | shoot him a wary look. "What do you mean, ‘talked’ to them?"

I'd regretted keeping our relationship a secret when Ellie was chasingdown, but it isn’t like we've had a

conversation about going public yet.

"Don’t worry," he assures me. "I made sure to explain we are still not mates."

| stare at him with mild exasperation, not sure if I'm happy or irritated. Or just relieved. No, wait; not exactly

relieved. If he sends a guardian spy to follow my every move, what am | going to do when Caeriel callsover

again...?

Things are getting complicated.

So | just reply faintly, "Oh."