Page 11 of Growl Me, Maybe

Lyra stood in the quiet for a long moment after he left, heart still thudding like a drumline in a hurricane.

“I knew it,” Milo whispered from the shadows, tail flicking smugly.

She sighed. “Don’t even start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said everything.”

6

JACE

Jace paced the length of his office with the kind of quiet fury that made most of his wolves clear a room without being asked.

Almost.

He’d almost kissed her.

And not in some calculated, controlled way. No. He’d been inches from her mouth like some hormone-struck pup with no sense of decorum, with no pack watching, with no world to carry on his back. Like it was just them. Just her.

Just her scent in his lungs and the maddening sound of her laugh still echoing in his ears.

“Damn it,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

It had barely been a week since Lyra walked into his world like a sunrise dipped in chaos, and already she was burrowed under his skin. She was wild, unpredictable, reckless and worse, she didn’t evenfeelit. Not the bond. Not the pull.

Not like he did.

Everything in him screamed for her. His wolf paced constantly now, restless and alert, ears pricked toward her every footstep in the Keep. He didn’t need to see her to know whereshe was, he felt it. A tension in the air. A whisper beneath his skin. Like gravity had rearranged itself around her.

And she… she was oblivious.

She talked to him like he was just her boss. Snapped back when he barked orders. Baked muffins that messed with everyone’s heads. She enchanted scrolls and tripped on cats and didn’tget it. Didn’tseeit. The mate-bond that blazed through him like wildfire.

It was unbearable.

Worse, it was humiliating.

His father would’ve seen the weakness. Would’ve torn into him for hesitating. For not claiming what was his. A mate was sacred. Fated. A gift that couldn’t be wasted.

“She’s not meant for me,” Jace muttered to the empty room.

She was a chaos witch. His opposite in every way. Where he was disciplined, she was impulsive. Where he was built of structure and silence, she was all sparkle and sound.

Surely his father would’ve seen that.

Surely he would’ve understood.

Or maybe not. Maybe that old bastard would’ve said the same thing Calla had been hinting at in his office when he asked about her:She’s the best thing to happen to this Keep in years, and you're too stubborn to see it.

No. No, hedidsee it.

That was the problem.

The next day brought fog. Thick and clinging, the kind that curled around the mountain and slid through the Keep’s wards like ghost-breath. Jace was up before sunrise, patrolling the perimeter himself. He hadn’t slept.

Couldn’t.

---