Lyra’s heart pounded. She could still feel the press of Jake’s mouth on hers, still taste the blood where he’d bitten her. Her wrists ached where he’d pinned them above her head, but that pain was nothing compared to the emotional whiplash tearing through her.
Lyle’s voice broke through the fog. “He needs to leave.”
She looked at her father. His shoulders were squared, his jaw clenched tight.
Jake didn’t move. He stood firm, eyes locked on Lyle like he was ready for a fight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled.
“This is my house…” Lyle began.
“No,” Lyra said quietly. Her voice was too soft, so she repeated it, louder. “No. We’re not doing this right now.”
“Lyra…”
“Dad.” She turned to him, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You don’t get to throw him out like this. Not after what you
