Second Chance for the Barren Luna (Talia and Jason) novel Chapter 366

Talia’s POV

I woke up slowly, feeling warm and heavy, with Nolan’s arm still around me and his breath gently moving my hair.

“Morning,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Morning.” I burrowed in closer, in no hurry to move.

“Talia, it’s noon actually.”

I opened my eyes, then shut them again. The light coming through the curtains wasn’t a gentle sunrise. It was the bright midday sun.

“So, it is,” I murmured.

Neither of us tried to move. Nolan traced shapes on my shoulder without thinking. For once, there was no crisis, no one calling for help, nothing pulling us away. I wanted to hold onto that feeling as long as I could. We stayed together until my stomach growled loudly, making him laugh.

“Fine, I’ll get up,” I whined.

Once we were ready, we went downstairs for lunch. As soon as we walked in, it was clear the chef had outdone themselves. The table was packed with food, almost like a week’s worth of meals all at once. Everything was fresh, hot, and made with care. I didn’t think it was just for us; it felt like the kitchen was celebrating the end of the war and the pack’s survival, putting all that relief into the meal.

I couldn’t remember the last time I was this hungry. I ate my meal quickly, as if I was making up for lost time. By the time I finished, I had gone through three plates, and Nolan was clearly amused.

“I’ve seen warriors put away less food after a raid,” he joked. “That Moonfire must really wipe you out.”

I felt myself blush when I remembered last night. I threw my napkin at him, and Nolan caught it, laughing.

“Shut up.” I stood before he could say anything worse. “Come on. We’re supposed to go see Solon.”

“As you wish, my Luna.”

We heard their voices before we reached the door. Solon’s laughter mixed with Leslie’s as they joked about something I couldn’t quite catch. That sound was the best thing I’d heard in a long time, so I paused to listen before finally knocking and going in.

Solon was propped up in the bed, still pale, but himself, all the way himself. He grinned when he saw us.

“There she is. Come to check I haven’t died on you?”

“Something like that,” I said. “You’re still really pale. Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel fantastic, thank you. The doctor says I can go home tomorrow.” He sounded a little too pleased, as if he had convinced them to let him leave early.

“If,” Leslie cut in from the chair beside him, “he actually takes the medication he’s supposed to take, on the schedule he’s supposed to take it, instead of deciding he’s fine and skipping doses. Which he will try to do.”

“I would never.”

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