Chapter 5 Tranquil

Lyra's POV

As my wolf neared the cottage, I observed George in a state of panic outside.

Taking charge, I shifted. Surprisingly, he hurried towards me and enveloped me in an embrace.

"Mate," resonated my wolf's voice.

"But he's human, how is that possible?" I inquired, yet silence met my question, not that her silence was an unfamiliar response.

Against all odds, it seemed we were descending into something inexplicable.

"You do realize I'm undressed, right?" were the words that escaped my lips.

"Oh! I apologize," he muttered, turning away and swiftly taking off his shirt, his gaze avoiding mine.

I pondered why he was making such a fuss. We were right in front of the house, and I intended to step inside and grab a dress.

Encountering him shirtless again was nearly unbearable. He resembled a perfect Greek god.

"Where did you go?" he inquired.

"I went for a run with my wolf," I replied nonchalantly.

"Lyra, no one can see your wolf. No one must know you're a werewolf," he cautioned.

"Why? It's not like they'll hunt me down and auction me or something," I joked.

His expression remained stoic, and then I grasped the gravity of his warning.

"Wait, they can do that?" I asked in shock.

He didn't reply. Instead, he gently held my hand and led me inside.

"You must be very careful and inform me whenever you want to go out," he said with utmost seriousness.

"Okay," I replied, but his concern lingered.

"Jeez! I've heard you. I'll be careful," I assured him before entering the room for a shower.

In the shower, thoughts of my family flooded my mind.

George had been comforting and accommodating, but I missed them, especially my brother. I wondered what might be happening back home.

As George prepared breakfast, the aroma filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere. I enjoyed his meals.

"Today, we're going into town. I'm taking you on a tour," he announced with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

"I won't encounter raw silver, will I?" I asked, and a playful giggle escaped his lips.

"No, you'll be with me. Besides, I need to get you some clothes," he reassured.

"I'm comfortable in yours though," I murmured, catching a glimpse of the genuine happiness that danced in his eyes.

As we set out in his vintage Peugeot 504 cabriolet 1980, the town unfolded before us, revealing its charm.

It was beautiful and bigger than most packs. He surprised me with cotton candy.

The taste was not just sweet, it held a magical quality that stirred emotions within me.

"What sort of sorcery is this?" I asked in amusement, and his laughter echoed, creating a melody of shared joy.

"It looks like a cloud but tastes very sweet!" I exclaimed, my eyes reflecting the delight I felt.

"I can get you more," he said, intertwining his fingers with mine as he led me to the cotton candy vendor.

The vendor created a massive, sugary creation, and I gestured for it to be even bigger.

The spectacle drew the attention of onlookers, but George remained unbothered. His gaze fixed on me, his smile spoke volumes of the emotions he held.

In the town, while many things were familiar, cotton candy was a delightful wonder I had never experienced before.

Despite my insistence on using his clothes, George took me shopping and selected dresses for me.

In the changing room, he patiently sat, and each dress I tried on seemed to captivate him more, evoking beautiful comments from him.

We collected a handful of things and then headed to a restaurant, where I indulged in new and amazing tastes.

The day was filled with joy and laughter, an experience I hadn't encountered in a long while.

Returning home with our shopping, I couldn't help but admire George's gentleness and warmth. He defended me against disrespect and never felt ashamed when I acted a bit peculiar.

As the days passed, I found myself increasingly drawn to him. The dynamics of a relationship between a human and a werewolf remained uncertain, but at that moment, I didn't mind the uncertainties.

"You're still not comfortable with me," George mentioned as we sat outside, gazing at the beautiful sky.

"Why?" I asked.

"You've never really told me why you ran from home," he confronted, and I fixed my gaze on the sky.

Gently, he turned my face towards him, holding my hands tenderly.

"Lyra, show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed," he calmly assured me, his words and voice like a comforting balm.

I smiled at him, looking into his eyes as he leaned in, locking his lips on mine.

Time seemed to freeze, a profound sensation washing over me. I could feel my wolf's happiness.

After the kiss, I awkwardly looked away as it was my first, only to see him smiling at me. A comfortable silence settled between us for a while.

"I need to go see my family," I announced to him.

"When?" he inquired.

"Tomorrow."

"Should I come with you?" he offered with concern. I shook my head.

"No, I'll be sure to return," I said with a reassuring smile.

"I believe you. I'll wait," he pecked my forehead.

We lingered in another comfortable silence before retreating to our respective rooms for sleep.

The next morning, George had risen before me and prepared breakfast. I ate before setting out. George tenderly held my hands.

"Are you sure I shouldn't come with you?" he asked once more. I smiled and hugged him.

"Here," he handed me a small bag, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and care.

"I included a little snack and a dress, since you'll have to shift before entering home," he said shyly, his voice carrying a tenderness that touched my heart.

I couldn't believe someone could be that considerate. With a soft smile, I accepted the thoughtful gesture, feeling a warmth in my chest.

He hugged me for a prolonged moment before I shifted into my wolf form.

As his fingers ran through her fur, there was an unspoken connection, a silent understanding that lingered between us before he stepped back.

With a sense of apprehension about what might await me at home, I had to go. The next morning, with much speed I reached our pack.

Approaching, my brother was the first to see me, rushing forward with a mixture of surprise and joy, enveloping me in a tight embrace.

"What are you doing here, you traitor?" my father's voice echoed from behind, the words cutting through the air.

"Father!" I called out in shock.

"Don't call me that! The moment you decided to walk away was the moment I disowned you

The pain in his voice sent a sharp pain through my heart, as the weight of his disapproval hung heavy in the air.