Grace of a Wolf-Chapter 62: Grace: Transference (II)

"Oh—he didn’t... I’m not..." My hand jumps to the side of my neck awkwardly. "We aren’t mated or anything."

She rubs her forehead. "That’s not what I was asking. Do you know what happens to two shifters when they complete a mating bond? The marking scars are just the physical expression. The real bonding happens on an energetic level. When a shifter claims their mate, there’s an exchange of energy. Usually, it’s balanced. A give and take."

A cold feeling settles in my stomach. "Okay..."

"It isn’t much, and there are levels of sensitivity to a bond. Some pairs can feel each others’ emotions, for example. There’s almost always a mental link between pairs. And they can share in each others’ pain and healing to a small extent."

I nod.

"And then there’s you."

Now she’s just getting ominous. "I’m listening."

Lyre’s expression softens with something that might be pity. "Caine... took. A lot. Though I don’t think he meant to. To be fair, you’re a bit of a special case, yourself."

I squint at her. "Um. Lyre? Not to sound repetitive, but Caine wasn’t trying to mark me."

She runs her hands through her hair with a groan. "Grace, you need to work on your relationship aversion. I know he wasn’t trying to mark you, but are you really trying to say you still haven’t figured out you two are fated mates?"

Time stops. My mouth hangs open. The twinkling lights grow dim in my vision as I process her words.

Lyre arches one eyebrow, waiting for my response. The silence between us stretches uncomfortably long.

My heart jumps at the thought, but then I crush the hope ruthlessly in a mental fist. No. Stop daydreaming.

"That’s..." My voice comes out flat, emotionless. "That’s impossible. Humans can’t be fated mates with shifters."

Lyre snorts. "Says who?"

"Says... everyone. It’s common knowledge. Fated mates are a shifter thing. It’s about compatibility between wolves. Humans don’t have that... that biological imperative."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. Lyre doesn’t make things up. At least, I don’t think she does.

Lyre crosses her arms. "And yet here we are, with you nearly dead from transference overload."

I shake my head slowly, my thoughts spinning out of control.

If what she’s saying is true... if Caine and I are actually fated mates...

My mind races back through every interaction, every moment we’ve shared. The way my skin prickled with awareness whenever he entered a room. The inexplicable pull I felt toward him from the very beginning—the strange gravity causing me to revolve around him.

How my body seemed to recognize his before my mind did.

The intensity of my reactions to his touch, his scent, his voice. The way my heart raced and my stomach fluttered and my breath caught in my throat. The heat pooling low in my belly whenever he looked at me with those storm-cloud eyes.

I’d attributed it all to fear, to adrenaline, to simple physical attraction.

But what if it was more? What if it was biological? Inevitable?

And then there was Caine himself. The brutal, dangerous Lycan King who tracked me down without any clear motive.

I’d let him in. Dropped my guard. Let him touch me.

Despite all logic and reason, despite all self-preservation instinct, I’d been drawn to him like a moth to flame.

"Oh." The sound escapes my lips as realization crashes over me. "Oh. It makes so much sense now."

Lyre lets out a soft snort. "Figured it out, have you?"

I press my palm against my forehead, feeling light-headed. "But it’s not possible. I’m just... human."

"Not impossible. Improbable." Lyre corrects me with a flick of her slender wrist. "There’s a difference."

My mind stumbles over this distinction. Not impossible means... possible. My entire worldview shifts.

"So humans and shifters can be fated mates. Even when the human doesn’t have a wolf soul?"

"It happens. Rare, but it happens." Lyre grabs a strand of her hair, twisting it in one hand as she squints at the ceiling. "The idea of mate bonds being only through wolf souls is also incorrect. Their soul is a dyad. A twinsoul, if you will. The wolf’s half of it is just more sensitive to things like a fated connection. It’s steeped in magic, after all."

"Oh." I’m learning things we’ve never been taught in school. In fact, I’m pretty sure the stuff coming out of Lyre would be considered werewolf heresy.

I wait for her to continue, but she simply studies me with those unsettling cat-slit eyes. The silence stretches between us.

"What?" I finally ask.

She sighs. "I told you before—you’re a special case."

Rewinding my brain, I vaguely recall something along those lines. I’d been a bit distracted and hadn’t focused on her words though. "Special how?"

Lyre’s gaze drifts to the window as she doesn’t answer.

I frown. "Come on, Lyre. What do you mean, I’m a special case?"

She taps her fingers against her thigh in a rhythmless pattern. "You know, it’s funny. Humans are so obsessed with knowing things."

What the hell. She’s the one who brought it up! freewёbnoνel.com

I push myself straighter in the hospital bed, ignoring the protest of my muscles. "Don’t get all cryptic and evasive on me now."

"I’m not being cryptic." She rises from the edge of my bed, stretching her arms above her head. "I’m being selective about what I share."

My patience snaps. "You’re the one who started talking about it all! You can’t just drop bombs like ’special case’ and ’transference overload’ and then stop."

"Hmm. Well, yes." She wrinkles her nose. "You aren’t wrong. But still, some facts shouldn’t be spoon-fed, Grace. They need to be discovered."

I press my palms against my eyes, exhaustion and frustration battling for dominance. When I look up, Lyre has moved to the small window, gazing outside.

"You’re dangling information in front of me like a carrot," I accuse her.

Without turning, she shrugs one shoulder. "That’s because you make a cute little rabbit."

The deadpan delivery catches me off guard, startling a laugh from my throat. The tension in the room dissipates slightly.

"I’m serious, Lyre."

"So am I." She turns back to me, expression contemplative. "Look, I know it’s frustrating. But some things—important things—carry more weight when you discover them yourself."

"Is this about my parents?"

The question ambushes us both. I hadn’t planned to ask it, didn’t even know the thought was lurking beneath the surface until it escaped my lips.

Lyre’s expression shifts, caution replacing humor. "What makes you ask that?"

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the sudden rapid beat of my heart. "Just a hunch."

"Your parents are part of the equation," she admits carefully. "But not in the way you’re thinking."

"How would you know what I’m thinking?" I challenge.

Her lips twitch. "You aren’t hard to figure out."