Lyra’s POV
As my wolf neared the cottage, I observed George in a state of panic outside.
Taking charge, I shifted. Surprisingly, he hurried towards me and enveloped me in an embrace.
“Mate,” resonated my wolf's voice.
“But he's human, how is that possible?” I inquired, yet silence met my question, not that her silence was an unfamiliar response.
Against all odds, it seemed we were descending into something inexplicable.
“You do realize I'm undressed, right?” were the words that escaped my lips.
"Oh! I apologize," he muttered, turning away and swiftly taking off his shirt, his gaze avoiding mine.
I pondered why he was making such a fuss. We were right in front of the house, and I intended to step inside and grab a dress.
Encountering him shirtless again was nearly unbearable. He resembled a perfect Greek god.
"Where did you go?" he inquired.
"I went for a run with my wolf," I replied nonchalantly.
"Lyra, no one can see your wolf. No one must know you're a werewolf," he cautioned.
"Why? It's not like they'll hunt me down and auction me or something," I joked.
His expression remained stoic, and then I grasped the gravity of his warning.
"Wait, they can do that?" I asked in shock.
He didn't reply. Instead, he gently held my hand and led me inside.
"You must be very careful and inform me whenever you want to go out," he said with utmost seriousness.
"Okay," I replied, but his concern lingered.
"Jeez! I've heard you. I'll be careful," I assured him before entering the room for a shower.
In the shower, thoughts of my family flooded my mind.
George had been comforting and accommodating, but I missed them, especially my brother. I wondered what might be happening back home.
As George prepared breakfast, the aroma filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere. I enjoyed his meals.
"Today, we're going into town. I'm taking you on a tour," he announced with a glint of excitement in his eyes.
"I won't encounter raw silver, will I?" I asked, and a playful giggle escaped his lips.
"No, you'll be with me. Besides, I need to get you some clothes," he reassured.
"I'm comfortable in yours though," I murmured, catching a glimpse of the genuine happiness that danced in his eyes.
As we set out in his vintage Peugeot 504 cabriolet 1980, the town unfolded before us, revealing its charm.
It was beautiful and bigger than most packs. He surprised me with cotton candy.
The taste was not just sweet, it held a magical quality that stirred emotions within me.
"What sort of sorcery is this?" I asked in amusement, and his laughter echoed, creating a melody of shared joy.
"It looks like a cloud but tastes very sweet!" I exclaimed, my eyes reflecting the delight I felt.
"I can get you more," he said, intertwining his fingers with mine as he led me to the cotton candy vendor.
The vendor created a massive, sugary creation, and I gestured for it to be even bigger.
The spectacle drew the attention of onlookers, but George remained unbothered. His gaze fixed on me, his smile spoke volumes of the emotions he held.
In the town, while many things were familiar, cotton candy was a delightful wonder I had never experienced before.
Despite my insistence on using his clothes, George took me shopping and selected dresses for me.
In the changing room, he patiently sat, and each dress I tried on seemed to captivate him more, evoking beautiful comments from him.
We collected a handful of things and then headed to a restaurant, where I indulged in new and amazing tastes.
The day was filled with joy and laughter, an experience I hadn't encountered in a long while.
Returning home with our shopping, I couldn't help but admire George's gentleness and warmth. He defended me against disrespect and never felt ashamed when I acted a bit peculiar.
As the days passed, I found myself increasingly drawn to him. The dynamics of a relationship between a human and a werewolf remained uncertain, but at that moment, I didn't mind the uncertainties.
“You're still not comfortable with me," George mentioned as we sat outside, gazing at the beautiful sky.
“Why?” I asked.
“You've never really told me why you ran from home,” he confronted, and I fixed my gaze on the sky.
Gently, he turned my face towards him, holding my hands tenderly.
“Lyra, show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed,” he calmly assured me, his words and voice like a comforting balm.
I smiled at him, looking into his eyes as he leaned in, locking his lips on mine.
Time seemed to freeze, a profound sensation washing over me. I could feel my wolf's happiness.
After the kiss, I awkwardly looked away as it was my first, only to see him smiling at me. A comfortable silence settled between us for a while.
“I need to go see my family," I announced to him.
“When?” he inquired.
“Tomorrow.”
“Should I come with you?” he offered with concern. I shook my head.
“No, I'll be sure to return,” I said with a reassuring smile.
“I believe you. I'll wait,” he pecked my forehead.
We lingered in another comfortable silence before retreating to our respective rooms for sleep.
The next morning, George had risen before me and prepared breakfast. I ate before setting out. George tenderly held my hands.
“Are you sure I shouldn't come with you?” he asked once more. I smiled and hugged him.
“Here,” he handed me a small bag, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and care.
“I included a little snack and a dress, since you'll have to shift before entering home,” he said shyly, his voice carrying a tenderness that touched my heart.
I couldn't believe someone could be that considerate. With a soft smile, I accepted the thoughtful gesture, feeling a warmth in my chest.
He hugged me for a prolonged moment before I shifted into my wolf form.
As his fingers ran through her fur, there was an unspoken connection, a silent understanding that lingered between us before he stepped back.
With a sense of apprehension about what might await me at home, I had to go. The next morning, with much speed I reached our pack.
Approaching, my brother was the first to see me, rushing forward with a mixture of surprise and joy, enveloping me in a tight embrace.
“What are you doing here, you traitor?” my father's voice echoed from behind, the words cutting through the air.
“Father!” I called out in shock.
“Don't call me that! The moment you decided to walk away was the moment I disowned you
The pain in his voice sent a sharp pain through my heart, as the weight of his disapproval hung heavy in the air.
Lyra’s POV I was taken aback by my father's harsh words, his departure leaving behind a void devoid of remorse. "Don't worry, sister," Damian consoled. "He's just angry. I'm sure he'll come around." "Where's mother?" I managed to ask through the turmoil of emotions. "She must be inside. Let's go to her," Damian suggested in his presence, a reassuring hand on my shoulder. As we entered, my eyes sought out my mother, and I rushed to her, seeking solace in her embrace. However, her response was not as warm as I had hoped. "Sit, Lyra," she said calmly, her voice carrying a weight of disappointment. "Damian, could you give us some space?" she requested. He nodded understandingly and retreated, leaving us alone in her chambers. "I'm so sorry, Mother," I pleaded, my words heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to bring you shame. Please forgive me.” "Hmm," was her only response. "Father said some hurtful words to me. Please, help me plead on my behalf," I pressed on, desperate for
Lra’s POV My journey stretched on longer than before, each step weighed down by the burden of sadness that clung to me like a cloak. When I finally shifted back, I found myself shivering in the cold, the thin dress Damian had included in the bag offering little protection against the biting wind. Despite my exhaustion, sleep eluded me until the early hours of the morning, when sheer weariness finally overcame the ache in my heart. When I awoke, hunger gnawed at me. With trembling hands, I reached into the bag and retrieved some fruits, devouring them hungrily before pressing on. As night fell once more, I found myself alone in the darkness of the woods, the eerie silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. The next morning, weary and famished, I finally reached George's doorstep and knocked. He opened the door, my face drawn and distressed. Without a word, he enfolded me in a warm embrace. "You look so pale. Are you okay?" he asked, concern
Lyra's POVThe next morning, as the sun cast its gentle glow through the windows of the cottage, George approached me with a look of determination in his eyes."I have something important to discuss with you," he announced, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.I nodded, eager to hear what he had to say, though my heart fluttered with anticipation."You see, I'm a businessman," George began, his words carefully chosen. "And while I sought refuge in this secluded cottage to escape the chaos of the city, it's time for me to return."My breath caught in my throat. "So, I get to stay here, right?" I asked, trying to mask the disappointment that threatened to surface. But George shook his head, his gaze unwavering."No, I want you to come with me. I can't bear the thought of leaving you alone in this secluded place."A rush of warmth flooded my chest at his words, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection f
Lyra’s POVEntering the city, the uproar of sounds assaulted my heightened senses, causing my nose to bleed.The relentless sound of vehicle horns, machinery whirring, angry drivers, children's voices, and a lot of other noises overwhelmed me.The mixture of scents, from people, dogs, food, and countless other odours, only added to my disorientation."Are you okay?" George's voice cut through the chaos, his concern evident in both his tone and his eyes."I will be. Let's get to your place," I managed to reply.He handed me his handkerchief to contain the flow of blood from my nose, and with a sense of urgency, he navigated through the congested streets. Each passing moment felt like an eternity until finally, we arrived at his residence.Thankfully his house was situated in a calm neighborhood, a stark contrast to the chaotic streets we had just passed. As the driver opened the gates, my eyes widened in awe at
Lyra's POV Before evening, George had arranged for a cage for my parrot. As we sat down for dinner in the elegant dining room, the ambience was disrupted when I reached for the cutlery. To my horror, the silver utensils burned my skin, emitting a sizzling sound upon contact. I flinched, dropping them immediately. “What's wrong?” George's voice was filled with concern as he noticed my distress. “I believe these are pure silver,” I whispered, my hand throbbing from the burn. George swiftly fetched the first aid kit, tending to my injured hand with a gentle touch. “I'm sorry,” he apologized, but I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. It was I who should have been apologizing for causing him undue stress. After bandaging my hand, George instructed the maids to replace all the silverware in the kitchen with golden ones before the next morning. Despite their confusion, they nodded and left to fulfil his request. “I'm sorry,” I murmured, feeling the weight of my abnormality. “Don't
George's POVIt was as if Lyra had been intentionally pushing me off all day. Despite sensing her mischievous intent, I brushed it off, attributing her behaviour to the headache she had been complaining about.When I awoke in the dead of night, a nagging feeling compelled me to check on her. As I entered her room, the empty bed sent a chill down my spine.My initial thought of her being in the bathroom dissolved into a grim realization, she might have ventured out to shift.My gaze darted to the parrot perched in its cage. "You understand me, don't you? Where is Lyra?" I demanded, struggling to decipher its frantic squawks.A sense of urgency gripped me as I pleaded, "She could be in danger out there. Can you help me find her?"Whether the bird comprehended my plea or not, it promptly took flight the moment I opened its cage. "Well, I guess I'm on my own," I muttered to myself.Without hesitation, I grabbed a large s
Lyra's POVSince our return from the cottage, I've been gloomy, burdened by guilt for stressing George unnecessarily.Replacing all the silverware in the house brought a fleeting comfort but deepened my remorse.The following day, I couldn't find joy in my usual TV shows, my mind consumed by thoughts of my life and purpose.Skipping lunch, I drifted into a restless sleep on the couch, only to be haunted by a dream where my parents watched me fall, offering no rescue. I awoke gasping, heart pounding, the dream's vividness intensifying my already sour mood.George returned in the evening, noticing my uneaten lunch. "Let's go out," he suggested."I don't want to add to your stress," I confessed."Have I ever mentioned being stressed?" George's sincerity cut through my uneasiness.Reluctantly, I accepted his invitation and followed him upstairs. While he freshened up in his room, I did the same.I selected
Lyra’s POVAs morning light seeped through the curtains, I gradually opened my eyes, only to find the space beside me empty. A pang of gloom washed over me, as I realized he must have already left for work.The sound of the door creaking open caught my attention, and I turned to see George entering the room in his pyjamas, a tray in his hands."Good morning, Gorgeous," he greeted me with a warm smile, placing the tray on the bed before leaning down to kiss my forehead.Wrapped snugly in the bedsheets, I couldn't help but question, "What's the occasion?" My eyes scanned the array of dishes on the tray, all meticulously prepared for breakfast."Nothing special," he replied softly, his eyes reflecting sincerity. "I promised to cook for you for the rest of my life, remember?""Well, you're certainly keeping that promise," a hint of sarcasm laced my response as I remarked.His expression softened, and he gently grasped my