Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 329

Abby

I fall back against the throne of pillows, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

Karl is laying in a sweaty heap beside me as he plants rows of kisses across my shoulder. He’s got one muscular arm draped possessively over my waist, his legs all caught up with mine. I tangle my fingers into his disheveled hair and pull him upwards, guiding his lips back to mine for one last long, deep kiss.

“Hm… still insatiable, even after all this time,” Karl growls softly when we finally pull apart. His eyes are half-closed as his fingers trace shapes across my bare skin.

I stretch my limbs out underneath his sultry gaze, unable to keep a satisfied smirk from flashing across my lips. “I could say the same about you, Alpha.”

Karl nips at my throat in retaliation, drawing a surprised giggle out of me. The sound melts into a pleasured sigh as his fingers trail their way a little lower toward my thighs, causing me to shiver and squirm beneath his touch.

“Round two already?” I mutter.

He smirks. “Always.”

We’ve spent nearly every night like this since deciding to give our relationship another chance three days ago. Lost in our passion, making up for three long, lonely years apart.

It feels just like when we used to be married—completely unable to keep our hands off of each other even for a moment. Back before everything fell horrible apart between us. I never want it to end.

Making love was never like this with Adam, I think to myself. I guess I know why, now, but it does still hurt a bit. It doesn’t matter, though; Karl and I are back together.

And right now, in the honeymoon phase, it feels like nothing else in the world exists—even though I know that we’re both being irresponsible by spending our days in bed.

Once we’re finally satisfied for now, the looming feeling of exhaustion catches up to both of us. I drift off curled against Karl’s side, his steady heartbeat and irresistible scent filling my nostrils. These are the moments I cherish the most.

And I can’t believe it’s been three fucking years.

…

When I wake up in the morning, pale winter sunlight is filtering into the bedroom. The other half of the bed lies empty but still warm. Through the open bathroom door I hear the shower running.

I stretch slowly before rolling out of bed. After a quick stop to brush my teeth I head downstairs in search of breakfast.

The mansion is quiet when it’s this early, but I’ve been waking up earlier so I can have time to exercise; with the restaurant still shut down and Officer Martinez’s orders to stay safe still fresh in my ears, it’s all I really have right now, aside from reading.

I pad barefoot across the cold marble floors to the kitchen, already thinking about what to make today. The idea of cinnamon rolls floats through my mind, and my mouth instinctively waters a little bit.

When I can’t cook in my restaurant kitchen, I need to cook here. At least I’m back in my old home, with the kitchen made to my exact specifications; a chef’s wet dream, really.

I’ve just gathered everything to make a tray of gooey cinnamon rolls when my cell phone rings loudly on the counter. With my hands still dusted with flour, I grab it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Abby, this is Officer Martinez from the city police department.”

I pause just as I’m about to crack an egg, my pulse instantly quickening. “Officer Martinez,” I breathe, setting the egg back down on the counter. “I hope you’re calling with good news.”

Officer Martinez hesitates before continuing. “Well, um… sort of,” she says. “I’m calling because we might need your help.”

My eyebrows raise of their own accord. “You do?”

“The public is growing impatient, to say the least,” she says, sounding tired. “Ever since the footage leaked the other evening, you’ve amassed quite the following of supporters. Many of whom like to spend their time protesting outside the police headquarters here, demanding answers and information. Answers and information that we can’t give them.”

I close my eyes, dragging a shaky hand through my hair. Of course the debacle from the other night sparked a newfound interest in my poor restaurant; I’ve been keeping an eye on the news, and I know how people feel about it.

After seeing how Gianna treated me, and after hearing my desperate speech about my infertility, people see me as someone… someone worth saving. And it all stems back to my restaurant, back to the ill-fated Alpha party and the food poisoning that I was framed for.

People are angry. People want justice for the underdog, I guess.

“I apologize for the disruption this whole mess has caused,” I say quietly. “What can I do to help?”

The sound of paper crinkling comes through from Officer Martinez’s end, as if she’s checking notes. “I know it’s an imposition, but we feel as though a public statement from you directly may ease tensions,” she says. “Assure the protesters we’re doing everything possible to catch the culprit.”

“Oh, um… sure,” I say. “I can make a social media post today. Just tell me what you think I should say, and—”

“We think you should come in person,” Officer Martinez interrupts.

My eyes fly open again. In person? With everything going on?

Sensing my hesitation, Officer Martinez adds gently, “You wouldn’t be alone up there, Abby. The police chief has agreed to make a statement as well, confirming we haven’t hit any dead ends and that justice is still being pursued.”

I chew my lower lip uncertainly. I know that Karl would, of course, support me through and through if I explain why I need to go back. But something in my chest clenches at the thought of leaving our blissful bubble so soon.

These past few days, locked away in our old home, everything else has felt so… far away. I knew that I would need a wake-up call eventually, but I guess I had hoped it could wait just a little while longer.

“When do you need an answer by?” I ask instead of giving a definitive response.

“We’re hoping to arrange something for tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Officer Martinez replies. “There’s significant momentum around this case again and there’s no time to waste.”

I mull it over, anxiety and reluctance at war inside of me. “I’ll confirm later today if I can make that work,” I finally say.

Officer Martinez sighs. “Of course. But no later than that.”

We end the call shortly after that. I set down the phone with a shaky hand, in completely disbelief of what my life has become. Poisonings, protests, politics all because I naively hoped to build the restaurant of my dreams.

But right now… cinnamon rolls.

A little while later, the cinnamon rolls turn out perfectly sweet and soft. I’m just putting finishing touches on an omelet to go along with them when Karl wanders into the kitchen, his hair damp from his shower and a satisfied smirk on his face.

He inhales deeply, his smirk growing into a grin as he sees the feast that’s waiting for him. “Now that’s my kind of wake-up call,” he says.

The smile I give him in response feels a fraction dimmer than normal. But I push away those thoughts for the moment, because right now, all I want is to share breakfast with my mate before I have to return to reality.