Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 349

Karl

The pleasant yellow flowers sitting on my passenger seat bob and bounce as I drive up the winding road to the prince’s estate. On one side of me, there’s a stretch of rolling fields and a smattering of little seaside cottages here and there. On the other side, below a dropoff of large boulders, there’s a sandy beach.

And beyond that: the ocean.

Under normal circumstances, I would be elated to visit a place as beautiful as this. Hell, maybe I would even take Abby here for our second honeymoon.

But I’m not here on leisure.

Up ahead, the prince’s seaside estate slowly comes into view. Its stone cornices, ornate spandrels, and castle-like exterior screams of old money. I can practically smell the cash from here.

And somewhere inside that estate is Abby.

As I pull up to the front gate, I run through the speech I have prepared one last time: a plea, really, more than a speech. I’m ready to get down on my knees and beg her to give me one last chance if I have to.

This time, it really will be my last chance. Because I won’t fuck up again. For Abby, I will do anything. She has to understand that. She has to…

“Halt!”

A guard steps out in front of the front gate, his flashlight glaring into my car. I shield my eyes from the sudden bright light and roll down my window.

“State your business.”

“Good evening,” I say, my eyes sweeping over the portly security guard. “I’m here to visit Chef Abby. She is here, correct?”

The guard pauses, then mumbles something into his walkie-talkie. A moment later, he grunts in my direction. “Appointment?”

“I don’t have one.”

The guard scoffs. “Sorry, pal. Visitors are prohibited without prior appointments.”

I grit my teeth as I glance over at the gate. I could probably drive right through it, if I wanted to, but… No, I won’t do that.

“Listen,” I say, “it’s really important. Can I please just speak with her for five minutes? You can frisk me, check my car, whatever—but I’m only here to see Abby, not cause trouble.”

The guard stares at me for a moment longer. “Tough love,” he finally says with a look of annoyance. “I’m not permitting you entry, especially not at this hour.”

I stifle a curse as the guard turns to walk away. But then, something happens: a voice crackles through his walkie-talkie. He pauses and says something back, and although I can’t make out what they’re saying, it sounds good.

Then, a moment later, he huffs and turns back to face me. “Alright. Prince Damon says you may enter.”

My heart leaps for joy. “Thank you so much.”

The gate then clicks and swings open on its motors, and I pull into the pebbled driveway. Abby, here I come.

…

An elderly butler who looks like he’s straight out of a movie leads me down a maze of opulent hallways. Ornate frames surround fancy portraits, all of the same man: Prince Damon. He’s a good-looking guy, I’ll give him that.

Bit of a narcissist, though, judging from the sheer amount of portraits.

Finally, the butler stops at a pair of heavy oak doors. “Prince Damon will see you now,” he says cordially, then pushes the doors open to reveal an equally opulent study.

The walls are lined with bookshelves, with a crackling marble fireplace on one wall and a set of antique furniture that looks as if it’s been reupholstered with only the finest fabric. In the center of the room sits an enormous mahogany desk, and behind it…

The prince himself.

I glance around quickly, hoping to see Abby sitting in one of the chairs, but she’s not here.

“Good evening,” Damon says, slowly rising from the chair behind his desk. “Alpha Karl, is it?”

I nod warily and manage a slight bow. The paper surrounding the flowers in my hand crinkles a bit as I move. “Good evening, your Highness.”

“Please. Call me Damon. Sit.”

Damon gestures to one of the chairs across from his desk. I sit, and he lowers himself back into his own chair. He regards me and the flowers for a few long moments before he breaks the silence.

“So. You’re here to see Abby.” A statement, not a question.

“I am,” I say. “I was hoping to speak with her. We have some… matters to discuss.”

Damon snorts slightly. “So I have heard.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Did she say something to you?”

“Oh, yes.” Damon stands again and crosses over to the fireplace. I watch, brow furrowed, as he reaches up and takes a small envelope off of the mantle.

“Abby has told me everything,” he says. “And I suppose I should let you know, man to man, that I cannot let you see her.”

“Why?” I ask, standing now myself. “Not even for five minutes?”

“No.” Damon turns, his eyes flashing in the flickering light of the fireplace. “I’m sorry. But… I will allow you to explain yourself first. I have, after all, only heard one side of the story.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand and sigh. How can I put this without going into too much detail with a man who I hardly even know? And furthermore, why did Abby tell him everything? It’s not like she knows him any better than I do.

“Abby and I were married,” I finally say. “We got divorced, but reconnected this past year. But… we had a fight and broke up again. As you can see…” I hold up the yellow flowers. “I’m here to try and make amends.”

“I see.” Damon thinks for a moment and leans against the side of the fireplace. The flames illuminate only one half of his face, leaving the other half in abject shadow.

“Really, I only ask for five or ten minutes of her time,” I say. “And as her mate—”

“Ah. So you’re mates.” Damon steps forward. He’s still got that envelope in his hands. “Well, regardless, Miss Abby has expressed that she doesn’t wish to talk to you.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “She has?”

“Yes.” Damon nods affirmatively and crosses over to me. “In fact, she figured you might show up; and she asked me to give you this if you do.” As he speaks, he holds out the envelope. I furrow a brow and take it, noticing my name on the back. It’s in Abby’s handwriting.

“What’s this?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “She just asked me to give it to you if you arrive at any point.”

With a sigh, I open the envelope and slowly slide the contents out. Inside is a single sheet of paper, folded carefully. My hand trembles slightly as I unfold it and begin to read.

“Dear Karl… I know you want to talk to me. I know you think we can work it out, but I just don’t see a way we can,” the letter says. “I’m hurt, Karl. What you did broke my heart and my trust. I don’t think I can forgive you.”

I swallow, glancing up at Damon again; but he’s turned back toward the fire to give me my privacy.

“I love you, Karl, and I always will. But we’re over for good this time. I don’t want to see you ever again. -Abby”

When I’ve finished reading, my hand is trembling more now than ever. Without meaning to, I crumple the paper in my fist. That was Abby’s handwriting, alright.

I guess she really is that angry with me, huh?

Damon turns to look at me with a sympathetic gaze. “My apologies, Karl. But as a fellow man, I cannot, in good conscience, go against the lady’s wishes.”

“Yeah. I get it.” A strained breath escapes my lips as my heart seems to fracture in more pieces than it already has.

Damon nods his head toward the flowers. “Are those for her?” he asks.

I nod, and without thinking, I hold them out to him. “It’s fine if she doesn’t want to see me, but—”

He takes the bouquet before I can finish. “Of course. I will see to it that she receives them first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” I breathe. Damon seems like a good man; I’ll give him that much. “She likes daffodils. They’re her favorite.”

Damon chuckles. “A good choice,” he says, setting the bouquet down on the table. Then, he looks up at me one last time. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Karl?”

“No.” I’m already backpedaling toward the door, the letter crumpled up in my fist like my life depends on it. “Thank you, Damon.”

“You’re welcome. My butler will see you out, now.”

…

It’s well past midnight by the time the neon motel sign comes into view. And good timing, too; my eyes are getting foggy, and I know I shouldn’t keep driving tonight.

I pull into the parking lot with a yawn and put the car in park near the front door. For a moment, I just sit there, rubbing my temples.

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Give her some time,” my wolf says. “She’ll come around. But for tonight…”

I nod as I look up at the flashing ‘vacancies’ sign.

“I’ll stay here,” I say quietly. “And in the morning, if she still doesn’t want to speak with me after receiving the flowers, then I’ll really know it’s over.”