Chapter 9
Zeraphine’s POV
The air inside the Starry Night Packhouse felt very tense, the warmth of the fireplaces doing little to melt the ice cold looks being exchanged between the elders and Lyrian.
I tried to focus on anything except Draven. The aroma of spiced cider swam through the air, and I held on to it as if it could anchor me— it was the only distracting event around. The one that made me seem to forget about it.
My daughters would have loved the sight of the massive Christmas tree in the corner of the room, its branches heavy with ornaments and candy canes.
But no matter where I turned, Draven was there.
I kept my distance from Draven, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. My wolf paced in my mind, restless. She didn’t understand why I was avoiding him. She only felt the pull—
