From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 146

Julia's POV

I helped Matthew back to his quarters, his substantial weight leaning heavily against my shoulder as we walked. I could feel the strain in his movements, the slight tremor in his muscles suggesting his injury was more severe than he was letting on. Once inside, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the angry red gash running across Matthew's side.

Dr. Moore had done a professional job with the stitches—precise, clean lines holding together the wounded flesh—but that didn't diminish the horror of knowing how close the blade had come to vital organs. My fingers hovered over the wound, trembling so badly I had to pull them back.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Matthew said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the severity of his injury.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. "Nathan did this because of me. Because you were protecting my pack."

Matthew reached out, capturing my trembling hand in his. His grip was firm, steady—everything I wasn't feeling right now.

"No, Julia. Nathan did this because he's unstable and dangerous," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This isn't your fault. None of this is."

I shook my head, unable to accept his absolution so easily. "If I hadn't come here, if I hadn't involved Spring Valley in Star Shadow's problems..."

"Then Emma would still be suffering," Matthew countered, wincing slightly as he shifted to look at me more directly. "And Nathan would still be a threat to everyone around him. The only difference would be that no one would know."

A tear escaped despite my best efforts, sliding down my cheek. "But you wouldn't be hurt."

Matthew's thumb brushed across my knuckles. "I'm the Alpha of Spring Valley. Protecting others—including allies from other packs—is literally in my job description."

I could feel his emotions through our bond—sincerity, concern for me rather than himself, and an underlying current of something warmer, something that made my chest tight with emotion.

"Does it hurt badly?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Only when I breathe."

"That's not funny," I scolded, but I couldn't help the slight upward tilt of my own lips.

"You know what would help?" he asked, his eyes softening. "A kiss. Just one kiss and I bet it wouldn't hurt at all."

I raised an eyebrow, attempting to look unimpressed despite the sudden acceleration of my heartbeat. "Really? That's your line?"

"It's not a line, it's science," Matthew said with mock seriousness. "Kissing triggers the release of endorphins—natural painkillers. Plus, oxytocin and dopamine create a sense of wellbeing and pleasure that can override pain signals to the brain."

"Are you seriously giving me a lecture on neurochemistry right now?" I asked, my sadness momentarily forgotten in the face of his ridiculous attempt at charm.

"I'm just saying," he continued earnestly, "it's a medical fact. Kissing has therapeutic benefits. As a nurse, you should appreciate evidence-based treatments."

Something shifted inside me, watching him there—wounded but still trying to make me smile, still putting my emotional wellbeing ahead of his physical pain. The guilt remained, but alongside it bloomed a warmth, a tenderness that made my chest ache.

Without thinking further, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, cutting off whatever additional "scientific evidence" he was about to present.

Matthew froze for a split second, clearly surprised by my boldness, before responding with equal fervor. His initial shock melted into something hungrier, more primal. His hand came up to cup my cheek, calloused fingers surprisingly gentle against my skin as he drew me closer. His thumb traced the line of my jaw, sending tiny electric pulses through my nerves. The kiss deepened, his lips parting mine with a confidence that made my stomach flutter.

I could taste the faint mint of his breath, feel the slight scratch of stubble against my skin. Heat spread through me like wildfire, starting where our lips met and flowing outward until even my fingertips tingled. It was a pleasant contrast to the cold fear that had gripped me since feeling his pain through our bond—this warmth felt like coming home after being lost in a storm.

His heartbeat quickened beneath my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. When he sighed against my mouth, I caught the faintest hint of his wolf scent—pine and mountain air mingled with something uniquely Matthew. Kaia stirred within me, responding to Hati's presence, adding another layer of connection between us that transcended the physical.

I shifted to get closer, bracing my hand against the bed—and accidentally pressed against his injured side.

"Ah!" Matthew broke away with a sharp gasp of pain.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" I pulled back immediately, mortified.

Despite his obvious discomfort, Matthew chuckled. "Worth it. Definitely worth it." He reached for me again. "Just... come around to the other side."

Carefully, I moved to his uninjured side, letting him guide me until I was lying beside him on the narrow bed. His arm wrapped around me, holding me close against his warm chest.

"Better?" he murmured against my hair.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I replied, tilting my face up to look at him.

His eyes had darkened, the amber flecks more pronounced as he gazed down at me. "Much better," he said, voice dropping to a deeper register that sent a shiver down my spine.

This time when our lips crashed together, there was no hesitation, just a raw, desperate hunger that had been burning between us for too damn long. My hand slid up his chest, feeling the hard, steady thump of his heart under my palm. His fingers gripped my hair, pulling my head back to deepen the kiss, his tongue demanding more.

As the heat between us exploded, Matthew’s hand moved from my face, sliding down my neck and over my shoulder with clear intent. His touch grew bolder, fingers brushing my collarbone before slipping lower. He cupped my breast through my shirt, his thumb grazing over the sensitive peak, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through me. I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped my lips, low and needy, my body arching into his touch without thinking.

“Matthew,” I gasped against his mouth, grabbing his wrist weakly. “Your stitches—we can’t. You’ll rip them open.”