I need a break. Desperately.
Ever since Elara's intensive Luna lessons yesterday, my head has been spinning with solstice rituals, werewolf traditions, and the terrifying prospect of the Wild Hunt. Not to mention my growing confusion about Kaelen—one minute he's distant and businesslike, the next he's touching me like I'm precious, telling me he prefers me "exactly as I am."
It's enough to make a pregnant woman lose her mind.
That's why I'm sitting across from Lyra at our favorite little Italian restaurant downtown, inhaling garlic bread like it's oxygen.
"Slow down, Sera," Lyra laughs, reaching for her wine glass. "The bread's not going anywhere."
I swallow my massive bite. "Sorry. I'm stress eating."
"I can see that." She tilts her head, studying me. "So what's got you looking like you're drowning?"
