Lyra's POVThe room was quiet, save for the soft sound of our breathing. I lay on the small, tucked-away cot in the back of Raphael’s office, the weight of his arm draped over my waist pinning me in place. The frantic energy of the night had vanished, replaced by a strange, hollow clarity. The alcohol had completely left my system the moment I opened my eyes, leaving behind a sharp, stinging reality.I stared up at the dark wooden ceiling, my mind reeling. I couldn't believe I had ended up here. I had come to this bar to drown my sorrows, to get angry, to be anything but the girl who was being traded away like a piece of livestock. And instead, I had let my emotions, my jealousy, and this cursed mating bond drive me straight into Raphael’s arms.I glanced over at him. He was still fast asleep, his face relaxed in a way I rarely saw. He hadn't pushed me away; in fact, he had been the one driving us toward this moment. I thought back to Jeremy. When we had been together, there was this
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