Lyra POV
The guest room Jaxon had given me was more than I could’ve hoped for—a soft bed draped in cream linens, a wooden dresser polished to a warm sheen, and a window that framed the village lights twinkling in the dusk. It was cozy, welcoming, a far cry from the cold forests and fleeting shelters I’d known since Calista stole my essence.
But as I sat on the edge of the bed, my backpack half-unpacked, a restless energy buzzed under my skin. The room was nice, but it felt like a cage, not because of the walls but because of the quiet. I wasn’t made to sit still, to wait while the world moved around me. I was free, curious, and Jaxon—God, Jaxon—had sparked something in me that refused to be contained.
My cheeks warmed at the thought of him, a flush creeping up my neck as I remembered h
