The Luna Queen's Rebirth (Ellie and Dominic) novel Chapter 170

She looks beautiful.

That’s the first problem.

Even when she’s mad at me. Especially when she’s mad at me.

I should be irritated. I had just walked in to find her sitting across from Lucas after storming out of my house like she planned to never return. Any normal man would have something to say about that. Any normal Alpha would make it known.

Instead, I glance at my watch,

“I would leave you alone,” I mutter, voice dry, “but this time I didn’t just follow you.”

Her eyes snap to mine immediately.

“So you admit it. You followed me.”

That earns a small breath of amusement from me. Not quite a laugh. She’d weaponize that.

“First,” I say calmly, leaning back in the chair, “I was worried.”

She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t injure herself.

I ignore that.

“I can feel it,” I continue. “When you start to feel sick. The bond tightens when we fight.”

I tap my chest lightly.

“Not exactly comfortable on my end either.”

Her shoulders stiffen.

“Second,” I add, glancing at my watch again, “my mother scheduled a cake tasting in thirty minutes.”

She melts forward onto the table like gravity suddenly doubled. Her voice comes out muffled through her

arms.

“You’re kidding.”

“Sadly, no.”

I pause just long enough.

“And she invited Vivian.”

That gets her attention.

She lifts her head slowly, like the words physically hurt.

“You’re serious.”

“I am always serious about cake.”

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She stares at me.

For a second, I see it. The corner of her mouth twitching like she might laugh.

It vanishes immediately.

Shame.

“Just so we’re clear,” I add, raising a hand slightly, “I did not approve this. My mother overheard enough to insert herself. As is tradition.”

“Be nosy?” Ellie mutters.

“Naturally.”

Silence stretches between us.

The bond hums faintly.

“You’re angry,” I say finally.

I drop cash on the table and follow at a reasonable pace.

She’s already at the car when I reach the parking lot, shoving a slice into her mouth like she’s punishing it. She yanks open the passenger door and drops into the seat with all the enthusiasm of someone boarding a transport to their execution.

I circle to the driver’s side and get in.

She crosses her arms immediately. Chewing. Staring straight ahead.

I start the engine.

“How’s the pizza,” I ask mildly.

She snorts.

“Better than cake,’

I glance at her profile. Her jaw is tight. Her breathing uneven. The bond vibrates faintly between us, unsettled but stabilizing now that we’re close again.

“Well,” I say thoughtfully, pulling onto the road, “I was leaning toward carrot cake.”

She turns so fast I almost laugh.

“That’s the worse one! Over my dead body.”

I nod once, satisfied ith a smirk.

That’s one flavor down.

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