Lyra walked up the steps into the humid evening air, the book safely tucked into her bag. Her find was full, lost in thoughts of the truth behind her mother, the reality of the gift that she possessed. She was so lost in thought, she missed it. That scent of eucalyptus and mint.
“Lyra.”
Her head snapped up. Jake was leaning against a tree, his arms crossed, his eyes dark. Fury radiated off him. She didn’t even need a special gift to tell her that he was pissed.
He uncrossed his arms, pushing off the tree to walk towards.
“Care to tell me what you’re doing?”
Lyra bit her bottom lip, twisting her hands around the strap of her bag.
He raised an eyebrow. “Leaving pack territory? Visiting a witch?”
“Jake,” she breathed. “I can explain.”
“Explain?” He laughed mirthlessly. “Explain what,
