The Luna Queen's Rebirth (Ellie and Dominic) novel Chapter 460

Chapter 460

Ellie’s POV

We broke apart slowly, foreheads pressed together, both of us breathing like we’d just climbed the mountains that were now nothing more than dark shapes in the night sky.

I was more or less in his lap, my skirt rucked up around my hips, his hands warm at my waist. His shirt was still hanging open where he’d torn it in the alley, two buttons gone forever, and I had no memory of how the rest of it had come undone. His hair was a disaster from my fingers tangling in it.

A shiver ran through me, and not the good kind. The apartment was freezing. I’d been gone since morning, and the woodstove had burned out hours ago.

I climbed off of him with as much dignity as I could manage, which wasn’t much, and straightened my skirt.” Give me a minute.”

The woodstove sat in the corner between the kitchen and the bed, small and old and reliable. I stacked the kindling the way Nico had taught me my first week here, struck a match, and coaxed the flames along until the wood caught properly. Then I filled the kettle and set it on to heat, not because I was thirsty, but because I needed something to do with my hands.

I was still waiting for the kettle to heat when two arms encircled me from behind, and a mouth pressed against my neck.

I shivered, but not from the cold this time as his lips found the spot just below my ear.

“The tea,” I managed.

“The tea can wait.”

He kissed the curve of my neck, right over the faded silver scar he’d left there a marriage ago, and a small sound escaped my throat at the last moment. My wolf purred, satisfied.

I turned in his arms. His eyes were dark, and there was a question in them.

I answered it by pulling the kettle off the heat and winding my arms around his neck.

He picked me up again. I wrapped my legs around him, and this time he carried me the ten steps across the apartment and laid me down on the bed like I was made of something breakable, following me down onto the

mattress.

For a while, that was all it was. Kissing, unhurried, his weight braced carefully above me. Then his fingers found the buttons of my jacket, and mine found what was left of his shirt, and piece by piece, we undressed each other in the light of the woodstove.

I’d been married to this man. Twice, technically, if you counted both timelines. And I had never once seen him like this.

He was beautiful. Firelight on skin, old scars I didn’t know the stories behind, and that fresh, ugly mark on his neck that I refused to look at for too long. He was staring at me the same way I was staring at him, like something he’d waited years to see, and it made my face burn.

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