The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon (Celine and Bastian) novel Chapter 128

Chapter 128

Carefully, Valeria rises to her feet, slips off the white nightgown that reaches her ankles, and turns her back to me. She doesn’t have tattoos like mine, but she does bear the same slanted Z-shaped mark branded between her shoulder blades.

“You have the same mark I do.”

“I do. My father’s mother fled Norway when the last clan of terrible wolves was wiped out by the Order of Silver, a group of supernatural hunters that worked for the Church. After the Strigoi invasion, their last headquarters ended up inside the

Vatican.”

I frown, completely confused.

“What’s a church? And what exactly is the Vatican?”

Valeria arches an eyebrow and studies me for several seconds before shaking her head.

“Everyone knows what a church is and what the Vatican is, Celine.”

“Well… I’m not from this world. I’m from Lemuria.”

Before she can answer, a portal of green and blue light bursts open in front of us, its flash illuminating the entire room. A remarkably handsome young man steps through it looking thoroughly annoyed.

His black hair is completely disheveled, his gray eyes are filled with irritation, and he’s wearing nothing but pajama pants. He’s barefoot and looks as though he’d been dragged out of bed against his will. Without sparing us so much as a glance, he walks straight to a cabinet lined with bottles, grabs one of liquor, and takes a long drink straight from the bottle before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Can you tell me what was so urgent?”

“Oh, nothing important. Just a pregnant young woman abandoned by a warlock in the middle of the rain a few hundred yards from my house.” The sarcasm in Valeria’s voice draws a faint smile from me. “Where did you say you were from, sweetheart? Lemuria?”

Vladimir freezes.

The bottle remains suspended between his fingers as he slowly turns his head toward me. The irritation vanishes from his face, replaced by an expression of absolute disbelief.

I stand and slowly walk toward the warlock, clutching the blanket tightly with both hands to keep it from slipping. I stop in front of him and look up. My throat feels dry again, and for a moment I’m afraid the words won’t come.

“Are you Vladimir Rusterholtz? Can you take me to Lemuria?”

His gray eyes narrow immediately.

“Who are you, and who told you my full name?”

I lower my gaze to my boots for a moment, gathering my thoughts. When I look back up, I meet his eyes without wavering.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify