Page 18 of Growl Me, Maybe

The bouquet was waiting for her on the front desk.

Lyra blinked at the bundle of pale blue blossoms nestled in a crystal-wrapped vase, their petals shimmering with a faint glow like starlight trapped in bloom. Tiny flecks of silver dust shimmered in the air above them, drifting lazily like sleepy fireflies.

“What in the—?” she murmured, setting her teacup down with a soft clink on the side table.

“Delivery came just after sunrise,” Delia called from the hallway, arms full of paperwork. “Didn’t catch who dropped it. No note. But the magic’s stable. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Lyra asked, raising a brow.

Delia shrugged without stopping. “Well, it’s humming.” She headed to the back to make copies.

Lyra leaned closer. The scent was intoxicating—cool and a little wild, like rain on a moonlit meadow.Moonflowers. Rare. Magical. They bloomed only under certain lunar cycles, and only if coaxed with the right energy. And these weren’t just any moonflowers. These glowed. Their magic was soft, quiet, almost romantic.

Her heart gave a traitorous flutter.

Was this…?

No. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

She glanced over her shoulder toward the north wing, where Jace’s office brooded in dignified silence. He hadn’t spoken to her much today. Or yesterday, really. Just that clipped warning about the northern ridge and a look that had lingered too long to mean nothing. But he hadn’t scowled. He hadn’t barked. And… maybe this was his way of saying something?

Maybe Calla was right.

“Don't touch that.”

Milo’s voice cut through her thoughts like cold water.

She turned to find the black cat perched on the ledge above the doorway, ears pinned flat, tail flicking like an angry metronome.

“I—what? They’re just flowers.”

“They’re not just anything,” he growled, leaping down with unnatural grace. “Step back.”

Lyra frowned, setting the vase gently on the reception counter. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being cautious. Which, considering your track record, should be my full-time job.”

She folded her arms, lips twitching. “They’re pretty. Magical moonflowers. Probably enchanted to smell appealing. Not like it’s a death hex.”

Milo sniffed the bouquet, then recoiled, fur puffing.

“Oh, that’s not good,” she muttered.

“Definitely not from your scowly alpha,” Milo hissed.

Her heart twisted. “You’re sure?”

“Jace’s scent would be all over it. Protective. Possessive. Pine and storm. This…” He sniffed again, nose wrinkling. “Smells like predator and rot covered up with roses. That’s Ezra Wolfe.”

Lyra felt her stomach drop. “What?”

Milo leapt onto the counter, glaring up at her. “You heard me. That smug, silver-tongued snake left you a magicalcalling card. And if he sent it to yourwork, he knows exactly where you are.”

She took a shaky step back, the sweet scent turning bitter in her throat. “But I don’t evenknowhim. I’ve never met Ezra Wolfe.”

Milo stared. “That’s theproblem, muffin. You shouldn’t be on his radar. And yet?—”

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