Chapter 22 Curled Around His Jacket, I Finally Felt My Wolf Settle

Lyra’s POV

The dining room in Clara Blackthorne's home exuded warmth. There were polished mahogany, glowing candles, and silver tableware that reflected the flames in dancing patterns. Despite the inviting atmosphere, I sat rigid in my chair, hyperaware of Dorian's presence across the table. He had...

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