Chapter 176

Grace

My heels clicked onto the porch, and the echoes vanished into the hushed quiet of the house. The day had been a whirlwind. It felt like I'd talked to every member of the pack and sifted through years of paperwork, yet I still didn't feel like I'd gotten anywhere. I was exhausted. And beneath it all, a gnawing concern that clawed at my gut.

I hadn't heard from Charles since we'd called him about the photo. I sighed as I crossed the threshold; the familiar warmth of the manor, scented of spices and old wood, enveloped me. My shoulders slumped, tension easing from my knotted muscles. I was home, at least. I could smell Eason, my kids, and Margaret inside.

There was also the smell of food. My stomach grumbled. The aroma of roasting vegetables and grilled steak lured me towards the dining room. The sound of silverware clinking against plates told me I was just in time for dinner that someone else had cooked or ordered.

It was times like this that I wondered how I had gone so long with being the only person responsible for feeding everyone. I found Eason setting the table for one. Plates floated through the air and settled into place.

"Hello, wayward warrior." He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Dinner's served, and the muchkins have already eaten."

He gestured to the platters that were still on the table. They seemed still hot. My stomach rumbled. I plopped into a chair.

"You're a moon-send. I don't know what I was thinking…"

Eason snorted. "Maybe you had a taste for Shake and Bake."

I wrinkled my nose. "I burned it more often than not."

He laughed and took a seat, staring intently at the platter of roast. I didn't know what he was doing, but as the sauce started to bubble, I could only guess.

"Are you… training or something?"

"Esme's a slave drive," Eason said. "Apparently, I was progressing too fast, so she's loading me up with hourly practice."

"Is it… hard?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Would be easier if George wouldn't fuss so much and just let me do it."

I chuckled. "He's hoping you'll reserve some of that energy for him."

He grinned. "And, as I told him, it's a totally different battery. Not that he's ready to test out the theory."

He sighed dramatically. "I can't wait until Ethan gets here."

"Better charge all the batteries."

"They are all overcharged, and I refuse to stoop to the level of a lonely, single college student."

I laughed and sat back as the spoons danced in the air, serving us both mashed potatoes, roast, and whatever mix of vegetables he'd made.

"Rough day?" he asked. "You look ready to sleep instead of eat."

Another place setting fell into place, raising a forkful of mashed potatoes to his mouth.

"You could say that," I grumbled, spearing a grilled mushroom. "Reports, numbers, meetings... I think my brain is on the edge of revolt if I don't go back to the lab soon."

He chuckled. "Well, I won't bore you with all the other stuff I've found about Fenris. It'll probably make you implode."

The mention of Fenris sent a rush of anger through me. I frowned at the other place setting.

"Charles?"

He snorted. "Margaret."

"I should be offended, but you can't help yourself," Margaret said, sauntering in. She took the seat. A basket of bread floated in behind her. "And honestly, Eason, you scared me half to death."

He smiled. "Sorry. Training and I'm pretty sure Grace wants at least one roll."

One of them sailed from the basket to my plate.

Margaret settled in front of the place setting. Eason narrowed his eyes, and the spoons started serving her.

"I'm impressed. Not even a drop."

"She'll take points," Eason said. "And I hate losing."

Margaret chuckled and looked over at me. "You alright, Grace? You seem… on edge."

I shrugged, trying to force a smile. "Just the reports, I guess. And the upcoming case… My nerves are a little fried."

It wasn't a complete lie. I checked my phone again and huffed. Nothing. Not even a quick text to check in with me or how things were going on his end.

"I'll have to tell him that he set your expectations up all wrong," Margaret said.

"What?"

"Going to the Lycan territories usually takes a few days, even from Mooncrest. The Enforcer base is several hours off a drive, and since he's only half witch speeding that up would be exhausting. The fact that he's been making them day trips means he's either delegated a lot or let a lot lapse." He pat my shoulder. "He'll be back, Grace. Don't let your imagination run wild."

I winced, thinking back to Charles' words about how much I trusted him. I did trust him, and I felt terrible that I was still having these terrible thoughts, but I couldn't help it.

"I…. I got it."

The doubt wouldn't go away quickly, but at least it didn't seem so immediate. I kept eating, hoping that it would get better.

Then, Cecil burst into the room in her pajamas, clutching a teddy bear in her arms.

“I brushed my teeth!” Her shoulders slumped. "It's bedtime, Mommy. If you don't get enough sleep, I'll have to tell Uncle Charles, and then we won't get to see the palace."

Eason and Margaret snicked, and I huffed, wondering when the hell Charles had turned her into a spy.

"I'm almost done, sweetheart. Why don't you… pick out the story you want for bedtime?"

Her eyes lit up, and she dashed off. "'Kay!"

"He's quite good at garnering loyalty."

I glowered at Margaret and finished eating. "I noticed."

Where Cecil had gotten this book, I didn't know. I could only guess that Charles had gotten it for her. No werewolf book starring a princess would mention anything about a quest, dragons, or sieges, but Cecil seemed to enjoy it, curling up beneath the soft glow of her new nightlight—another present from Charles, I bet. She fell asleep before I even finished the story, and I wondered if the book had been enchanted or something.

I sighed, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead. Leaving the room, I closed the door gently, the silence of the house engulfing me. I stopped off to check on Richard, but he was fast asleep beneath a soft, floating light. Was it magic or just hanging from the ceiling? Knowing that Esme had been in the house and that she was training Eason, either could be likely. With a sigh, I headed back to my office, dropping all the paperwork I’d brought home on the desk. I stared at the reports scattered across the desk and shook my head. There was no way I could focus on any more financials.

I opened my textbook to try and get through some reading, and work on the reports for my dissertation, but before I knew it, the words on the page blurred and turned back.

The next thing I knew, I smelled him.

"Charles?"

He chuckled. Air moved over me. I opened my eyes, seeing him in the darkness of his bedroom. I reached for him.

"Hey, you," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His calloused fingers were warm against my skin. "Heard you've been running yourself at full speed today. You didn’t even feel Eason move you."

My lips twitched. “He floated me around like a basket of bread, didn’t he?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. He was so proud. It was something about getting all the points when Esme got back.”

He hushed me, slipping into bed. The warmth of his body heated the air beneath the blankets. His warm, heady scent washed over me, but there was something else.

Metallic and meaty—blood.

My eyes popped open with worry.

"What—"

He hushed me again, sliding closer. My hands slipped over him, but I felt no bandages. He didn't even seem bruised.

"Charles, you smell like blood." My fingers traced the line of his jaw, feeling the tautness of his muscles and the hint of stubble. "Are you… hurt?"

He went still. "Your senses are getting sharper. I promise it was just my suit."

Was that supposed to make me feel better?

"Why does your suit smell like blood?"

He sighed. "Can we talk in the morning?"

I narrowed my eyes. He smiled, but his eyes seemed tired. I wanted to ask, but something told me that pushing him now, demanding answers in the dead of night, wouldn't get me what I wanted.

I had to trust him.

Trust that he'd tell me.

"Okay," I said.

His lips twitched. He kissed my forehead, then my lips, and pulled me close with a low, content rumble I felt beneath the hard muscles of his chest.

"I'm not hurt," he whispered. "Get some rest, Grace."

I nodded, but even as I drifted off to sleep, the worry didn't subside.

He might be fine, but what could have happened?