Page 30 of Growl Me, Maybe

“Only if you promise not to bite.”

He stepped closer. “No promises.”

Her breath caught.

Not his.

Because he was still an alpha.

Still in control.

Mostly.

Her magic pulsed in the space between them, tugging at him, soft and wild. He could almost see the threads weaving between them—bondlines faint but present, waiting. Wanting.

He didn’t touch her.

But he was close enough to feel her exhale.

“Jace,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said.

Another step and they were almost chest to chest, eyes locked, the silence around them folding in like a cocoon.

He didn’t kiss her.

But stars, hewantedto.

“We’re here,” she said, voice too soft.

He blinked.

They were at the stairs to her loft. The green-painted apothecary beneath her window still had moonflowers climbing up the side. She rested one hand on the rail, the other wrapped around the banister like she needed the anchor.

He followed her up the first two steps, slowly. One hand on the railing. The other… aching.

She turned on the landing, breath visible in the crisp air.

He hovered there, staring at her lips.

“I should say goodnight,” he said hoarsely.

“You should,” she whispered.

He didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned in, close enough to brush her temple with his breath.

She didn’t move. But her eyes burned.

And it was too much for him to bear anymore.

15

LYRA

He didn’t say goodnight.

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