Wolf's Grace

Chapter 220: Grace: Princess

In the end, the rest of the day passes without further incident.

No clarifying update appears on my phone, either, leavingexasperated. And Caeriel hasn't answered any of

the ten messages I've sent his way, asking for an explanation on the gibberish he calls a new mission.

He wantsto do it quickly, but how can I do it without any information at all?!

Theis as cryptic as he is!

But now we have clean laundry, and Super Nanny—whose name, | remember now, is Randy-not-Randall—is not

only fantastic with the children, but even conjured a savory and aromatic beef stew out of nowhere, making it so

| don’t even have to worry about dinner.

After peacefully restocking dressers and showering the children, Super Nanny even has the kitchen cleaned and

dishes done. Dylan, meanwhile, has cleaned the litter box every tthe cat uses it, and takes Sadie out every

thirty minutes to run around in the grass. He's even thoughtfully picked up her little chocolate doggy bomb out

of the yard from this morning.

It's all so very peaceful, so very peaceful...

And it makes my skin crawl.

Every t| pick up anything weighing more than a piece of paper, there’s a Lycan there to grab it fromand

offer their help. Randy doesn’t seem to have the slightest hint of an ulterior motive whatsoever, just perfectly

content to play babysitter while | sit around and watch him do it.

Dylan, on the other hand, is very clearly judgmental of every move | make, and I'm pretty sure he doesn’t

exactly like me. But he treatswell and hasn't slipped once in his treatment of me.

Andrew, on the other hand... no idea what he’s doing. They wouldn't let him in.

But since this is his pack and territory, I'm pretty sure he’s fine. Maybe.

Even if there is a niggling sense of doubt and worry making its way into my head, along with a healthy heaping

of reluctant responsibility. After all, the man said he basically gave up his pack to be my friend; only a complete

dick wouldn't feel a little guilty after hearing that.

By ten, my brain is in shambles and Bun’s turned into a couch-hopping banshee with bunny ears and a golden

retriever’s tail. Dylan and Randy haven't even blinked at her odd shifting, and Sara and Jer are comfortable

enough to be their normal selves in front of them.

Jer even managed to get the more reticent Dylan into an entire conversation about how pterodactyls and

crocodiles are basically, in a weird way, cousins. I'm not entirely certain | believe him, but the kid's so convincing

| kind of think he might be right, too.

If he’s not, then he probably has a great future as a car salesman.

I gnaw on a piece of beef jerky—something Dylan brought, not the kind in packages we bought at Walmart—as

my mind bounces around all these things taking up pranxiety real estate.

Well... not the pterodactyls or crocodiles. But the rest, yes.

Though watching Bun—all rabbit ears, golden retriever tail, and pure manic toddler energy—temporarily pushes

everything else aside.

"One!" she shrieks, leaping from the left cushion.

"Two!" she announces proudly, landing on the right.

Is it just me, or is her speech improving at an unusual rate? | need a parenting book.

The rhythm of her jumps and shouts has almost lulledinto a meditative state when the door swings open

with enough force to makejolt upright, jerky hanging forgotten from my mouth.

For a split second, I'm worried it's Rafe again, even though logically | know it's impossible because we locked the

door.

But no, it isn’t Rafe at all. It’s Ron, and his usually stoic face is flushed, his eyes bright with inner fire. He even

looks an inch or two taller all of a sudden, though it might be the suit he’s wearing.

| did not send him to bring-your-son-to-work-day in a suit. No idea where he got it. Caine, obviously, but still—

where?! | used to live here, and we don’t exactly have a plethora of suit stores.

He barely spares a glance for Dylan and Randy, so | guess he already knew they were here. Makes sense, if he

was by Caine’s side all day.

But what happened to my aloof teenage boy and why did a young man walk through my door?

"Ron!" Bun screams, abandoning her cushion ginstantly with her arms stretched toward him.

He strides forward and scoops her up in one fluid motion, swinging her high as she shrieks with delight,

completely unguarded. "Bun-Bun! Did you miss me?"

Jer and Sara converge on him like excited puppies, practically bouncing off the floor.

"Did you fight anyone?" the younger boy demands, eyes wide with bloodthirsty curiosity.

"Did Caine make you howl at the moon?" Sara cuts in, not waiting for an answer to Jer’s question.

My face freezes into a weird expression. | can feel my mouth smiling, but | know my eyebrows are twitching like

crazy. "Why would they howl at the moon, Sara?"

She rolls her eyes atwith such exaggeration, | almost feel offended. "Duh, they're wolves, Grace. Wolves

howl at the moon."

Oh, silly me.

I roll my eyes back, but she tosses her head back to Ron. "Well? Did you?"

He laughs. "No, and no."

"What's with the suit? Are you, like, a prince now?" Jer asks, grabbing Ron's sleeve and tugging. "Because

Caine’s like a king, right? So that makes you a prince!"

"Uh"

Sara gasps tically, one hand flying to her chest as her red eyes go wide. "If Ron’s a prince.. Does that

makea princess?"

Then she grabs Ron’s other arm, shaking it urgently. "I need to know, Ron. This is important for my future. Am | a

princess?"

Ron rolls his eyes, but there's no hiding the smile tugging at his mouth. "No, squirt. That's not how it works."

"Then how does it work?" she demands, unwilling to let go of potential royalty status so easily.

"Yeah," the youngest of them echoes, "explain the political structure of Lycan society to us!" He pronounces

‘political structure’ with careful precision, clearly a phrase he’s picked up recently and is proud to deploy.

Ron shifts Bun to his hip, where she immediately grabs a fistful of his hair and tugs. He doesn’t even flinch. "It’s

complicated."

"We're complicated," Sara counters, hands on her hips. "Try us."

"Well, you need a blood transfusion first."

"A blood... transfusion?" Her forehead wrinkles. "Why?"

"Because you'd need to drain all of yours and fill it with Lycan blood, stupid." Ron flicks her forehead with a

smile, taking sof the sting out of his words.

"You're the idiot!" she retorts, stomping a foot as she flings his arm away from her. "It’s a valid question!"

There's no mistaking her heartbreak over her lack of princess title, and | bite back a laugh as | get off the couch

and guide Ron out of the hall and into the living room proper, though | level a disappointed glance at the front

door he’s closed behind him.

| was under the impression Caine would cin after bringing Ron back—

But, of course, I'm "not his mate’. And he seems determined to stick to the script, even if his execution is...

flawed.

I sigh, then shake it off to focus on the person | haven't seen all day. "How was it, really? You seem like you

enjoyed it."

"It was..." He pauses, searching for words. "Different than | expected."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different important, | guess? | learned a lot."

Bun leans forward and bites his shoulder, and he winces. "Ouch, Bun! No biting!"

"No ba!" she mocks, shaking a finger in his face like he’s the one who did something bad.

My lips twitch as he attacks her face with kisses, making her squeal. Then he givesa stern look and says,

"It's past her bedtime."

Randy looks guilty from where he’s standing in the kitchen. "Miss Harper wanted to wait until you were home..."

I" , PB : [1

Don't wait fornext time," Ron

says seriously, Ree {fer

spreads ssed up, and she

. H H n

really needs a consistent bedtime.

"Sorry. I'll make sure she’s in bed early tomorrow."

Sara suddenly announces out of

nowhere, apparently still polski

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"You can be the royal pain in my—" Ron starts, but catches my warning look and redirects, "—royal advisor."

"Advisor?" She scoffs. "I want a crown."

"Duchesses don’t have crowns."

"Yes they do!" Sara turns towith a pout. "Don’t they?"

How the hell am | supposed to know?! But | grab my phone and look it up.

"I'll be the royal scientist," Jer announces, puffing out his chest. "I'll make weapons and potions and—"

"No, you're the clown," she says dismissively, cutting off his joy and importance before it can go anywhere.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Ron sighs. "Do you guys really think we're part of the British royal family or something? That's not how it works."

| clear my throat, reading off the results of my search: "Duchesses can wear coronets, which are basically little

crowns."

"I'll take it!" Sara crows, turning to point at Ron. "Suck it! I'm a Duchess!"

"That's still not how it works, Sare-Bear."

"Yeah, Sara the Hedgehog." Jer lifts his lip in a sneer. "You're too little to be a Duchess. They have to be, like, fifty

years old."

Somehow, the misinformation

surrounding royalty is Lye

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A little worried, | try to shush the kids before he has a heart attack. "Guys, let’s stop joking around."

The Lycan smashes his fist against the table, and we all flinch, except Randy and Bun.

"If the girl wants to be a princess, let her be a princess!" he roars, his face crimson.

"Princess!" Bun declares with perfect diction as she throws a hand up. "Yay!"

Wasn't he... angry?

But, judging by the way his face softens as he looks at Bun, he’s... not.