Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 318

Abby

With a soft sigh, I shut off the shower and step out into the steamy bathroom. I reach for my towel and get to work drying myself, feeling how the chilly air makes me shiver as the water sits on my skin.

It’s the day of Karl’s press conference, and I only just woke up a little while ago. It’s going to be a long day; I’ll have to attend Karl’s press conference as his “Luna”, even though I’m not.

After what happened yesterday, I feel a bit apprehensive about the situation. I don’t think I’ll be visiting Doctor Armitage again, which means that part of our little deal has already fallen through. Part of me wonders if other parts will fall through, but I haven’t decided whether I’ll pull out or not.

Right now, I’m leaning toward staying.

Ask Elsie, and she’d say that it’s because I’m falling back in love with him; ask me, and I’d probably make something up about restaurant logistics.

But Elsie is rarely wrong. I won’t admit it, though.

Suddenly, I hear a soft knock on my door, breaking the stillness of the morning. I’ve just barely pulled my robe on and wrapped my hair in a towel.

The knock comes again without even a few moments in between. I figure it must be Karl, probably coming to give me the schedule for the day. Maybe he’s feeling frantic today.

Curious, I walk over and open it.

“Karl, it’s—” I begin, but suddenly stop. It’s not Karl. Instead, there’s a woman standing there, her professional demeanor evident in her crisp attire. She’s carrying a sleek, black makeup case, and her hair is pulled back into a flawless bun.

But I don’t recognize her in the slightest.

“Hi, can I help you?” I ask, clutching my robe a little tighter around myself. I can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s here for Karl and came to my door by accident instead of his office door.

The woman smiles politely. “Good morning, Luna,” she says. “I’m Jenna. I’m going to be your stylist for today. Alpha Karl sent me.”

A stylist? My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Karl never mentioned a stylist; he just told me to look nice for the cameras.

“Oh, um, that’s very kind of him, but I can manage on my own, thanks,” I reply, already having flashbacks to the makeup chair at the cook-off, when I was covered in a mask of foundation and contour.

Jenna, however, seems unfazed by my refusal. She holds out a small envelope. “Alpha Karl insisted. He also wanted you to have this. He said he figured you would refuse.”

Furrowing my brow, I take the envelope from her hands. Of course he wrote a letter; why wouldn’t he? With a roll of my eyes, I open it and pull the piece of paper out to read its contents.

Abby,

I know it’s not your favorite thing in the whole world to get your makeup and hair done, but you’re in good hands. We both need to look perfect for the cameras today. Please, let Jenna help.

-Karl

P.S. I didn’t tell you sooner because I figured you would refuse. Now that she’s already here, you wouldn’t send her away, would you?

I can’t help but smile, even as a sigh escapes my lips. This is just like him. But there’s something endearing about Karl’s concern, even if it does feel a bit over the top.

“Okay,” I say, stepping aside to let Jenna in. “Come on in.”

Jenna enters the room, her eyes scanning the space before she sets down her case on the dressing table. “Thank you, Luna Abby,” she says. “Let’s get started, shall we? Have you already washed your face this morning?”

I nod, taking a seat in front of the mirror. Jenna begins to work, her hands skilled and efficient as she brushes out my hair, prepping it for drying and styling. The room is filled with the soft clinking of her tools and the occasional hum of a hair dryer.

At first, I feel a little awkward under her expert gaze, my usual routine far more modest. But as she applies foundation and starts contouring, I find myself growing increasingly uncomfortable.

“That’s a lot of makeup,” I say, frowning at my reflection. The foundation feels heavy on my skin, more like a mask than anything else. I feel like I’m getting ready for the cook-off again, and I don’t like it.

Jenna pauses, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I’m just following the standard protocol for press events, Luna.”

I shake my head. “It’s too much. I don’t feel comfortable like this.”

Immediately, Jenna’s demeanor changes. “Yes, Luna. I’ll adjust it right away.”

As she starts removing some of the heavier makeup, I’m struck by the shift in her tone. The word ‘Luna’ seems to carry a weight of its own, commanding a level of respect and obedience I’m not used to anymore.

It’s jarring, reminding me of how differently I can be treated by people just based on my status. Interviewers, waitresses, baristas, and now stylists…

It’s a stark contrast to the more casual interactions I’ve grown accustomed to in the city, to say the least. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. When I’m a ‘nobody’, I need to earn respect; which is often an uphill, often losing, battle. But as the ‘Luna’, I’m instantly revered. Whatever I say, goes.

I can’t believe I’ve forgotten what it’s like already. Three short years, and I already feel like I don’t know how to react when someone treats me with respect.

I sit quietly, lost in thought as Jenna works. It’s not just the respect, but also the idea of being expected to look perfect on Karl’s arm that’s daunting, a stark reminder of the public scrutiny that comes with being Luna.

But at the same time, there’s something undeniably thrilling about Karl’s insistence on presenting me as his partner, his equal. His commitment to showing the world that I’m his Luna—his woman, his mate—is both overwhelming and…

Strangely, a bit arousing.

Jenna continues her work, her hands deft as she curls my hair into soft, elegant waves. The makeup she applies now is minimal, enhancing my features without overpowering them. She finishes with a light touch of lipstick, just enough to add color without being too bold.

“There,” she says, stepping back to assess her work. “You look stunning, Luna.”

I glance at my reflection, taken aback by the transformation.

The woman staring back at me is elegant, composed—the very image of a Luna, a lifestyle that feels lost to time in my world, but I also feel like myself. My hair cascades in gentle curls over my shoulders, and the makeup highlights my features with a subtlety that feels more ‘me’.

I stand, smoothing down the sleek dress Jenna helped me choose earlier. It’s a deep blue color, almost matching my eyes, and it hugs my figure in all the right places. The heels she’s picked out add just the right amount of height, making me feel powerful and confident.

Maybe Karl was right; maybe I was in good hands.

And if I’m being honest, I’m kind of excited to see Karl’s reaction.

“Thank you, Jenna,” I say, turning to face her one last time.

Jenna nods, packing up her tools. “It was my pleasure, Luna. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

As she leaves, I’m left alone with my thoughts. Not for long, though; because as I’m standing in front of the mirror, checking everything over one last time, a voice calls down the hallway. Karl’s voice, this time.

“Abby? It’s time.”