Lyra’s fingers curled loosely in Jake’s grip, his warmth grounding her in the quiet hush of the woods. Her heart thudded against her ribs, too loud in her ears. She glanced up at him. His gaze held hers, steady and open, without pressure.
He meant what he said. She could feel it.
“I don’t even know if I can shift anymore,” Lyra whispered.
His brows drew together, concern flickering across his face. “You can. She’s still there. It’s just going to be... difficult. Painful, probably. Like the first shift all over again.”
She bit her lip. The first few shifts for a werewolf were always agonizing. She didn’t look forward to going through that again.
“I pushed her so far down that there are times I can barely feel her. What kind of werewolf does that?” She looked away, blinking fast as her
