My stomach does a nervous little flip as I smooth down the fabric of the dress Lior picked out for me.
It’s a deep forest green, the color making my golden eyes seem even brighter, or so Lior tells me.
The harvest celebration is in full swing outside, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, sweet cider, and the earthy aroma of the season.
Laughter drifts in through the open windows of Lior's room in the pack house, a boisterous wave that makes me want to burrow deeper under the covers.
“Come on, little star,” he had said earlier, his voice a warm rumble that always manages to soothe my frayed nerves. “Everyone wants to celebrate with you.”
His hand, calloused but gentle, had cupped my cheek, his green eyes full of an affection that still feels a little too bright, a little
