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Lyra leans into me, nudging against my side, her acceptance clear.
“So what are you going to call your new pet?” Alexander laughs.
I shoot him a withering glare. “She is not a pet.”
“Don’t be like that, X; what about calling her Luphorror? Do you see what I did there?” He grins. “I shipped Lupus and Horror together. I think it suits her.” He tries to punch my shoulder in camaraderie, but Lyra snaps her head in his direction and issues a warning snarl, to which he quickly withdraws his hand.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, holding up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to upset you. If you don’t like the name, we can throw a couple of other ideas around.”
“She exhibits a remarkably strong sense of guardianship towards you, Xavier, displaying possessive tendencies and unmistakably acknowledging your presence as her designated mate,” Marcus remarks.
“While that is very intriguing, how do we turn her back into her human form?” I ask since I wish to kiss her and feel her in my arms.
“Regrettably, I believe it is beyond our purview to effectuate such a transformation. The prerogative to revert to her human state lies solely within Lyra’s domain. In the event that she harbors apprehensions stemming from the actions of her brethren, it is plausible that she may choose to remain in her bestial form, finding solace and security therein.”
“All right.” I stroke my hand over her head and scratch behind her ear. She nuzzles into my touch, her eyes closing in contentment. “Is that it, girl? Are you afraid of your brothers?”
She snorts and shakes her colossal head, and I don’t need to speak beast to understand that she finds the very idea of being afraid of her brothers amusing.
“No, then perhaps you have unfinished business,” I venture, to which she responds with a low growl. It’s clear that she’s not done with her family. It seems to me that Lyra wants to exact some vengeance of her own.
“Well then, we’re going to war.”
“Yes,” Alexander says, rubbing his hands together. “We get to kill werewolves.”
“Hmm, though it does sound enticing and my hands are more than adept at conjuring spheres of arcane power, I must confess that I have recently entrusted my cloak to a thorough cleaning, and I am reluctant to subject it to any potential tarnish. However, fear not, for an idea has materialized within the depths of my mystical cognizance. I shall employ my arcane arts to erect a protective barrier around our ethereal forms, ensuring that not a drop of crimson shall besmirch our attire.”
“Huh?” Alexander raises a brow.
“He doesn’t want to get blood on his cloak, Alex. I’m going to need you and Marcus to hold off the rest of the pack while Lyra and I seek out her brothers and her father. Do you agree with this plan, Love?”
Lyra’s growl assures me that she agrees.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Xavier
Aswewalkthroughthe forest under the cover of darkness, soft whispers of leaves underfoot accompany our journey, blending with the hushed tones of our conversation.
“I wish you could talk, little wolf,” I murmur, my words barely audible in the quietude. By my side, Lyra, who is still a magnificent, wolf-like beast, moves with a grace that befits the wilderness around us. Her fur glistens under the moon’s pale light, and her keen eyes reflect a glimmer of comprehension.
In the darkness, our connection transcends words. It’s as if she listens, absorbing every syllable I utter and responding in her enigmatic way. The bond between us is palpable, a silent understanding that we share amidst the mysteries of the forest.
“You fought Lucian for me,” I continue, my voice tinged with gratitude and uncertainty. “Endured more pain than anyone should bear. We brought you back from the brink of death, and now you have transformed into this beast. It tears me apart not knowing what you are thinking.”
A low, empathetic whimper resonates through the night air, a sound that tells me she recognizes my anguish. Seeking solace, Lyra leans against me, her solid body finding comfort in our shared connection. It’s a silent gesture, a reminder that we face our challenges together, even when words elude us.
As we move deeper into the forest, Alexander’s voice breaks the silence from behind us. “I still think she needs a better name,” he suggests. “What about Ravenshadow? A creature of darkness and mystery, her jet-black fur blending with the night, striking fear into the hearts of all who meet her.”
Lyra’s eyes narrow, her ears twitching in agitation. I pause, studying her closely, realizing that the name “Ravenshadow” doesn’t sit well with her. Gently stroking her fur, I offer an apologetic smile. “Ignore Alex; he is a fool.”
“Dude, I can hear you, and I’m not a fool; Ravenshadow is a good name.”
Shaking my head, I assert, “She doesn’t like it, and she already has a name; it’s Lyra.”
“Come on, X. Lyra is a pretty name; no one will tremble in fear when they hear it,” Alexander argues, and Marcus chuckles. “How about Fluffzilla? It captures her majestic presence and the undeniable fluffiness of her fur. Or maybe Fangtastic, since her teeth could rival any vampire’s.”
Laughter fills the night; even Lyra joins in with a snort, momentarily lifting the weight of our burdens. But we know there are greater challenges ahead, and we must focus.
