Page 48 of Growl Me, Maybe

No. Yes.

Maybe.

Her gut twisted.

She wasn’t foolish. She didn’t trust Ezra—too polished, too calculating. But he hadn’t vanished after kissing her. Hadn’t made her feel like an afterthought. Hadn’t built a wall of secrets and stoicism around every damn word like Jace did.

And wasn’t that the problem?

The way her thoughts always circled back tohim.

Even now, staring at Ezra’s invitation, she could still feel the ghost of Jace’s hand on her waist. Still hear the rumble of his voice when he told her she was his mate—then looked at her like that truth was a burden instead of a gift.

“What does he evenwantfrom me?” she asked the kitchen air. “He’s the one who brought up the bond, then told me he couldn’t do anything about it. Why tell me at all?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Milo replied.

She picked up the invitation again and made a decision.

Later that afternoon, Lyra stood in front of her closet, hands on her hips, glaring at the heap of options that looked either too boring, too witchy, or toodesperate to be noticed by a certain alpha who’d already said no.

She hated this.

Hated that she cared what Jace thought. Hated that her heart still skipped a beat when she pictured his eyes—the color of winter storms and all the trouble that came with them. Hated that her skin tingled every time she remembered the way he’dtouched her, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or push her away.

Andgods, he was beautiful.

In that raw, dangerous way she never should’ve been drawn to. All coiled power and quiet command, with a voice like thunder wrapped in velvet and hands built to protect or destroy. He smelled like pine and earth and something she wanted to bottle and hide in her pillowcase.

It wasn’t fair.

He didn’t laugh easy. Didn’t flirt. Didn’t open up.

But she saw him.

Saw the weight he carried. The guilt etched into his spine. The hurt he wouldn’t name. And for all her anger, part of her wanted to reach through the silence and pull him out.

But he didn’t want to be pulled.

She slipped into a slate blue dress that flared at the waist, cut just enough to whisper against her curves but not beg for attention. Her magic hummed under her skin, threaded into the charm woven along the neckline—protection, poise, and a pinch of confidence.

Milo sat on her bed, unimpressed. “This is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You don’thaveto. You’re radiating ‘emotional trainwreck with a sparkle gloss finish.’”

“I’m not going with Ezra because I like him,” she snapped, applying a subtle gloss in the mirror. “I’m going because I’m tired of letting someone else’s indecision dictate my worth. I want to enjoy myself and maybe I’ll trick myself into having a good time.”

Milo tilted his head. “So you’re punishing yourself to prove a point?”

She stopped, lip brush halfway to her mouth.

Damn him.

Still, she finished getting ready.

And when she left the loft with her head high and her heart hammering, she told herself it didn’t matter if Jace saw. She told herself she didn’t care.

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