Grace of a Wolf - Chapter 231
Chapter 231: Grace: Bruised
Chapter 3: Grace: Bruised
“I’m here to see Grace.”
Andrew’s voice carries through the door, steady and cool despite the demeanor of the old Lycan gate-guarding my doorway. It’s a little surprising to feel the relief threading through me when I hear his voice; Dylan’s become a little too much of a sycophant, and the reversal’s too quick. It’s enough to make a girl uneasy around him, not sure how much is real and how much he’s faking.
Besides; his behavior isn’t for me, Grace. It’s for Caine’s mate. Shockingly enough, I’m not averse to borrowing his power… but it doesn’t really feel good to know someone’s taking care of you because of your position and not your personality, you know?
“I don’t think you have any need to see her,” Dylan says harshly. His voice is old-sounding enough for it to be harsh without trying, and now he’s obviously trying.
“I don’t think you have the right to decide that.”
My lips quirk a little. Speaking of sycophants, Andrew’s always been the ultimate one in my head all these years, always standing by Rafe’s side. He never had much of his own personality; he was always “Rafe’s best friend, Andrew”.
But unlike Dylan, who achieved sycophancy after discovering my identity, Andrew’s lost his. It’s not hard to assume who I’d prefer to talk to.
“Let him in,” I call out, wiping banana from Bun’s chin. She tries to avoid it, even bending backward in an attempt to pretzel herself, but I win because she’s strapped into a chair.
Her entire face scrunches up in disgust as I scrub a crusty bit of oatmeal from under her eye while I’m at it.
Meanwhile, Dylan’s entire face goes sour and he steps aside with all the enthusiasm of someone allowing a raccoon into their pantry. Andrew slips past, and Dylan shuts the door with force.
Andrew, meanwhile, doesn’t even acknowledge the Lycan now that he’s made his way inside. His brown eyes settle on me instead, a now-familiar half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Hey. How are you doing?”
My cheek twitches a little as the old Lycan scowls at his back, probably plotting his murder or something. Somehow, I have the feeling Andrew’s being too friendly on purpose to piss him off, but it’s more amusing to watch than anything… mainly because I know his attitude would change if Caine walked through the door.
“Fine. Why are you here?”
His eyebrows lift as he shoves his hands into his pockets, slouching a little as he stands in the hall. Dylan’s forced to shove him forward in order to enter the kitchen, his scarred face looking particularly dark and scary as he shoots the younger man a quick glower.
Andrew doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes steady on me, occasionally drifting to the still-arched Bun.
“What, I can’t be here?”
“I mean…” Deciding Bun’s clean enough, especially considering she’s just going to shove more mashed banana on her face—which she promptly does as soon as I take away the demonic wipe I used to clean her—I settle back into my seat with a frown. “You don’t have a particular reason to be.”
The statement hangs awkwardly in the air, but it’s true. I’m not trying to be rude, but our relationship has always been defined by Raphael. Andrew was Rafe’s friend who tolerated me. Now he’s saying he’s a friend who’s chosen me over Rafe, but… well, when did we become hang-out-every-morning friends?
I was not consulted.
The idea still feels weird, though not as impossible as it used to.
Then again, after having Super Nanny come by yesterday and utilizing Andrew as a chauffeur, I’m starting to become inordinately fond of having lackeys…
Andrew coughs into his fist, a faint red flush creeping up his neck. “I told you before. I’ve made my choice. I’m not going back to Rafe’s side.”
Dylan’s head swivels as he pours two burned pancakes into the trash, looking a little less grouchy when he observes Andrew.
Meanwhile, something else has caught my eye. It’s a yellowed bruise near his temple, in the stages of late healing. And if I squint really hard, I think there’s dried blood at the corner of his mouth, though whatever injury is long healed.
My eyes narrow.
“Did Ellie give you trouble?”
His hand flies up reflexively, fingers skimming the bruise before dropping away. “What? No. Hey, Jer and Sara are still sleeping?”
The denial comes too fast, wrapped in a casual tone that’s anything but as he evades further questioning.
“Andrew—”
“Where’s Sadie’s leash?” He cuts me off, even as he’s already found it on the counter. “I’ll take her out for a bit. She’s probably ready for a walk.”
I frown. “You don’t need to—”
He snatches the leash off the counter and whistles. “Come on, girl.”
Sadie slips off the daybed and trots over to Andrew, but slinks when she gets near. Her eyes are wide, the whites of them clearly visible as she looks at Dylan before practically plastering herself against the younger shifter’s legs.
I turn to Dylan, who’s returned to his pancake fortress, my frown intensifying as my suspicions are proven correct. “Did you scare my dog?”
He pours new pancakes into the pan. “I did not terrorize the beast, ma’am.”
“Pa cay!” Bun shouts again, stretching her hands toward Dylan’s stack with renewed determination.
Andrew clips the leash to Sadie’s collar, his movements stiff. The bruise on his temple is more obvious now that I know to look for it. For it to still hang around, it’s probably from earlier this morning. And he’s trying too hard to act like nothing happened, which either means it’s very related to me… or he’s trying to protect his ego.
I let it slide for the moment, determined to pin him down later.
“She’s been acting weird since we got here,” I point out. “Like she’s afraid of your reaction.”
“Dogs have instincts,” Dylan says flatly. “Perhaps she recognizes superior predators when she encounters them.”
Hah! She wasn’t even afraid of Caine when she first met him, our first sign of her not being a normal dog. Though she does seem to prance a little lighter around Fenris, who does, in fact, terrorize her, only further proving I’m probably right.
Andrew snorts and mutters, “Or maybe she just doesn’t like assholes.”
The Lycan turns from the stove, but the tense moment is interrupted by another knock on the door, because apparently we’re the party house of the morning.
Sadie flattens herself to the floor and belly crawls behind Andrew as he goes to open it, whining a little.
This time, it really is Randolph, and he comes inside with a smile. Aside from giving Andrew a curious look, he nods politely in my direction and grins widely at Dylan. “I thought I smelled breakfast. Is that going to be enough, though?”
Even Andrew does a double take as we both stare at the pile of food on the counter.
“Are you blind? I’m still cooking,” Dylan snaps.
Bun reaches out for Randy with a soft coo, and he unbuckles her to pull her into his arms.
For some reason, I feel like scowling at the man as Bun happily pats at his face, leaving me uncomfortable with the surge of jealousy I feel as she smiles at someone unrelated to our little family unit.
“Good morning, princess. Are you done eating breakfast?”
She shakes her head.
“No? Are you still hungry?”
She nods and places both hands on either side of his face, saying solemnly, “Pa cay.”
The urge to scowl fades almost immediately.
Instead, I smile. “I need to shower. Do you mind feeding her some pancakes, Randolph?”
“It’s Randy, ma’am.”
Jesus. I’m perfectly capable of remembering a name, and yet I can’t figure out his for the life of me. “Right. Randy.”
“No problem, ma’am. Do you want some pancakes, Bun?”
“Bay.”
“And bacon?”
“Ey.”
“Eggs?”
Super Nanny seems particularly proficient in her gibberish.
Bun nods with satisfaction, but my newfound jealousy is still calm in my chest. After all, I’m not going to be the one cleaning up her sticky mess. If he wants to sacrifice himself, he can.
A little smug and high on having newfound lackeys to do everything for me, I even shoo Andrew and Sadie outside before half-skipping into the bedroom to grab fresh clothes for my shower.
My mood brightens further to find Caine’s sent me a text.
[CAINE: Good morning. Did you have breakfast yet?]
[GRACE: Yep. About to shower now.]
[CAINE: Alone?]
I blink at my phone, but the weird question doesn’t ruin my happiness.
[GRACE: Yes…?]
[CAINE: Good.]
And… there’s our conversation.
A little bemused, I read over the few texts again.
Ah, he probably was asking if I was showering with Bun. Now it makes sense.
The man doesn’t seem terribly proficient at conversational texting. His question’s not only weird, but he’s left our conversation at a standstill. How the hell am I supposed to respond now?
[GRACE: Why, do you want to shower with me?]
His response is shockingly swift.
[CAINE: Can I?]
[GRACE: No.]
[CAINE: Oh.]
A blush heats my cheeks even as I stare at the screen in exasperation. He’s left it at a dead end again…