LYRA POV
A week had passed. A blur of soft mornings and rough nights with Hunter, of whispered reassurances and too many orgasms to count. And now we were here. In the air. Flying toward my future.
The plane hummed beneath us, but it was his hand that kept me grounded. Hunter had claimed the window seat without asking, just so he could be the one to turn toward me and shield me from the rest of the world. His fingers were laced with mine, warm and firm, and every time my nerves spiked—like they were doing now—he’d gently rub circles over my palm or slide his thumb across the top of my hand.
“You okay, flower?” he asked quietly, voice barely audible over the soft buzz of the engines.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was the truth. “I will be.”
His smile could melt glaciers. “We’re
