Page 32 of Growl Me, Maybe

As Jace's storm-grey gaze locked onto hers, Lyra felt the raw intensity of his desire. It was a stark contrast to the stoic alpha who had once scowled at her magical mishaps, and her heart raced in anticipation. With a swift, almost feral movement, he moved over her, the muscles in his shoulders flexing. The air between them was electric, charged with the promise of what was to come.

When he entered her, it was anything but gentle. It was a primal claiming, a fierce melding of bodies that sent a shockwave of sensation coursing through her. Her back arched off the sheets, her auburn curls splayed across the pillow as her magic, ever attuned to her emotions, surged forth in response to the overwhelming connection. Prismatic bursts of light danced across the room, reflecting off the enchanted rings that adorned her fingers. The lamp on the nightstand, a mundane object caught in the whirlwind of their passion, reacted to the magical chaos by sprouting a cluster of daisies from its base. The flowers glowed with an ethereal light, casting a soft illumination over the scene, a testament to the power they unleashed together.

Jace's every thrust was a testament to his need for her—unrelenting, consuming, and utterly without restraint. The scent of pine and campfire that always clung to him filled theroom, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the daisies and the undeniable musk of their lovemaking. Lyra's breath came in short, sharp gasps, each one a silent plea for more. Her nails dug in as she held on, lost in the tempest of their union.

The bond between them crackled and sparked, a living thing that wove their fates together with every shared heartbeat. In that moment, there was no pack alpha, no chaos witch, just Jace and Lyra, joined in a connection that transcended the boundaries of their respective natures.

As they moved together, the room became a canvas for Lyra's chaotic magic, painting the walls with swirls of color and light. The air shimmered with the remnants of their passion, a tangible reminder of the barriers they had broken.

“Lyra—” His voice frayed as she clenched around him, her legs locking at the small of his back.

“Don’t youdarestop.” She raked her fingers through his hair, silver sparks trailing from her rings. A bookshelf across the room began levitating.

He groaned, hips snapping forward. “Your…damn chaos…”

“Our chaos,” she corrected, biting his earlobe.

The bond between them crackled—wolf and witch, order and entropy—as their rhythms spiraled. She hadn’t expected this rawness, thisabsenceof walls. Not from the alpha who’d once snarled that her “enchanted dandelions” were undermining pack security. Yet here he was, unraveling her with every thrust, his control splintering like old ice.

And to feed the need they both had been denying had to be fed more than once that night.

Later, much later, Lyra lay tangled in the sheets, chest rising and falling, skin flushed and glowing.

Jace lay beside her, one arm slung across his eyes, jaw tight.

She turned toward him, still breathless. “Hey.”

He didn’t move.

Her smile faded. “Jace?”

Still nothing.

The warmth of their moment twisted into a knot in her stomach.

He sat up. He scrubbed a hand over his face, tension rolling off him in waves.

“Don’t,” she said softly.

“I need to go,” he muttered, already reaching for his clothes.

Lyra sat up, sheet clutched to her chest. “Go? Now? After?—?”

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he said, voice rough.

Anger flared through her, but hurt came first. “Wow. Okay. That’s… good to know.”

He looked at her, and there wasguiltin his eyes.

And something else.

Fear.

She swallowed hard. “Was this just some alpha thing? You needed to scratch an itch so you claimed the nearest witch who’d let you?”

“Don’t,” he rasped, eyes flashing.

“Thenwhatwas it?” she asked, voice trembling. “Because it felt like more. Like something that’s been building since the day we met.”

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