The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 110: Morning Afters and Bare Chests

When he turned to head into our room, I straightened my legs and braced them against the doorway, blocking him completely. He frowned down at me, clearly not expecting the sudden resistance.

"I’m sleeping down there tonight," I said firmly, jerking my chin toward the guest room two doors away.

His intense gaze searched mine. Something flickered deep in his eyes regret, maybe but he didn’t push me. He set me down gently on my feet, and I immediately began backing away toward the guest room.

I paused at the door, holding the frame. "Thank you... for helping with my wrist. And for not stopping me earlier," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Good night."

Before he could respond, I slipped into the guest room and shut the door securely behind me.

I collapsed straight onto the bed, letting pure exhaustion pull heavily at my limbs. The tension, the shift, the blinding pain it all caught up with me in one long, shaky exhale into the dark.

I was just starting to relax when I heard it: bare feet padding softly across the floorboards outside in the hallway. I froze, holding my breath. No way.

Pushing the covers aside, I crept to the door and eased it open a crack. And there he was.

Zaliver was lying directly on the wooden floor outside my room, bundled in a thick blanket with two pillows shoved awkwardly under his head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He looked up at me with a triumphant grin, like he hadn’t just set up camp outside my door like a rejected, oversized puppy.

I walked out and sat down on the floor beside him, my arms folded tightly across my chest. "What are you doing? Go back to your bed. That can’t possibly be good for your back."

"Nope," he said, popping the ’p’ popped with infuriating satisfaction.

I scowled down at him. "Why not?"

"Because that bed’s not comfortable without you. None of them are."

The sheer raw honesty of the words hit me like a physical blow to the chest. I opened my mouth to shoot back a witty reply, but nothing came out.

"Idiot," I whispered softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek before pushing myself back up to my feet. "Suit yourself. But don’t complain tomorrow when you wake up feeling like you’ve aged fifty years."

He growled low in his chest at the quick retreat.

I paused, my hand lingering on the brass doorknob. "I’m still mad at you, you know."