Rejected His Miracle Luna (Dorothy and Ignatius) novel Chapter 108

Chapter 108
-Dorothy-
Angie and I sat together on the swing chair outside her family home. The old chair creaked and groaned as we swung back and forth, spurred by Angie’s heel pushing into the ground, I sat with my legs folded, picking at a dandelion to distract myself from the morbid thoughts swirling in my mind. Angie stared out into the distance, absentmindedly tugging at a loose strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.
Once Plato had finished his story, Ignatious had taken him home. Plato had been nearly delirious with fatigue, insisting that it was Johan that he had seen that night. Ignatius instructed him to get some rest. The shifter had seemed disgruntled, but he evennally relented and let Ignatius drive him home.
1 accompanied Angie in the van. We dropped Fae off at her mother’s place. She wanted to warn the old woman of what was inevitably coming, and to reassure her that she was alright. Angie and I had sought out her own mother to do the same.
Angie’s grandfather had died before the battle with the Tally. Jolian had lobbed his head off when the old man made a play for asylum. Angie rarely spoke about the incident, but her eyes filed with a quiet melancholy everytime she revisited her family home.
All that was left of the Rockbells were her mother and younger brother, and Angie herself. Angie was their protector, their provider, and that responsibility weighed heavy on her shoulders, even though Ignatius had tried time and time again to offer assistance.
Angie felt responsible for her grandfather’s actions. Both guilt and disgust tainted her memory of him, so much so that she refused to acknowledge all the good he had done for the Bielke before he died. She refused to acknowledge him at all. Ignatius had long since forgiven her grandfather’s treason. But Angie had not. She had vowed to protect the Bielke, and an act of treason by her family was a stain on her own code of honor
I didn’t understand it, but I respected it. And my heart ached for my friend.
“Do you think it really was Johan that Plato saw out there?” I asked her, keeping my eyes on the dandelion stalk.
Angie picked lint off of her sweater and flicked it away vacantly. The weather had been growing colder, which was odd considering we were in the dead of summer. It was like the cold skins had brought the icy winds with them and thrown nature out of balance all over again.
“I don’t know what to think,” she mused, refusing to meet my eye “From what Plato said, it doesn’t sound like fearmongering. It sounds like Johan, or whoever this guy is, is trying to start a new war
Angie sighed deeply and leaned back in the swing chair, kickstarting the back and forth motion again.
“This guy has to be a fake. He might be taking on Johan’s name to try and gather people to his cause. I just don’t understand why he’s trying to pose himself as the savior of the people. The shifters don’t need a savior, and we as a pack have done all we can to atone for the sins of our predecessors.”
She was silent for a moment before continuing “I know it will never be enough, but this guy doesn’t care about justice. He cares about taking us down. Why else would he be inciting an outright attack on the Bielke?
I leaned my head on her shoulder, utterly exhausted. “I’m sorry you and Fae had to cut your vacation short because of all.
this
Angie shrugged and nudged me with her elbow, “Don’t worry about it, red. Fae and I were ready to come back. And besides, we’re both happy to be back on the job Tracking is what we do. I don’t doubt we’ll be able to handle investigations a bir better than Plato did”
“He did alrighat I tried in vain to defend Plato’s honor. But the man had managed to set someone on fire during a “stealth” massion. He wasn’t the most inconspicuous of trackers to say the least.
Angie chuckled quietly, before her face settled back into a gloomy grimace. “We have to stop this guy. I’ve lived through one war. I don’t think da
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Chapter 108
Angie didn’t need to elaborage. The message
clear. She had lost too much already.
Later that evening. Angie dropped me off at home. The first star were tw inkling overhead and the house was dark and silent, save for a flickering glow in the kitchen window. Angie perped over the steering wheel skeptically. “Looks like nob*dy’s home”
“Ignatius is here. I could sense him. And his animosity. Earlier that day, we had organized for the children to stay with Zanelle for the wight. Angie and Fae would he there as well, posing as both protectors and practicing parents.
Thad been hesitant to pass my children over to someone else for a whole night, but Fae had taken one look at the state of Ignatius and Tasd insisted we give in.
You both look like you haven’t slept in days,” she had chided. “Tike the night off, Dorothy.”
I waved to Angie as she speid away before quietly slipping inside.
As I suspected. Ignatius was in the kitchen. Sewing in the dark like he frequently did these days. Any other day 1 would have poked fun at his display of angst. But tonight, it felt justified, I too wanted to curl up in the dark and brood.
Ignatius sat on the floor with his back to the stove, forearms resting on his knees, his head hanging low. He wore nothing but his standard black jeans, barefoot and shirtless despite the cold weather
1 eyed the half-empty bottle on the floor beside him and leaned in the doorway, folding my arms. “It’s not like you to get wasted on a Tuesday night”
He glanced up at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Fae said to take the night off. That’s what I’m doing”
“Hm. Just don’t blame me when you wake up hungover.” I replied and strode over to him.
1 sat myself down beside my mate and gestured for him to pass the bottle. Ignatius raised a brow in bemusement. “Are you sure! This stuff is stronger than most,”
“Just hand over the bottle.”
I rarely ever drank. I’ve never had a taste for liquor of any kind, much to Angie’s disappointment. I had apparen her of a drinking buddy when I was born with an inability to handle what was in my cup
Tonight however, I ch ug ged straight from the bottle, the liquid bitter on my tongue and burning all the way down. I coughed and spluttered and Ignatiu s laughed, nicking the bottle back from me and taking another swig himself.
Now that we were parents, Ignatius and I barely got to do things like this anymore. Granted it was a gloomy, unceremoniou gathering on the kitchen floor.
But I hadn’t seen Ignatius laugh in a while, his features softened by the liquid that burned through his blood. It only pained me to know that this is what it took to get him to relax now,
We laughed together, leaning on each other while the alcohol did its work. I had to admit, it did wonders to release the tension that had been building in my shoulders ever since the first vampire rumor had sparked up.
Sitting together, illuminated only by the flickering candlelight, it felt like the earlier days, back when Ignatius had first laid me down beside the fire during my very first heat. I had my mate back and his hand on my knee was warming and soothing
But it wasn’t long before our troubles came back to plague us and our laughter gave way to gloomy silence. Ignatius leaned his head on my shoulder. I stared out into the dark and lifted the bottle to my lips.
“What are we going to do, Ignatius?” I murmured low are we going to survive this one?”
Ignatius heaved himself upright and closed a hand over my own “We can’t afford to fall apart now. We have to stay strong, for the kids and for the entire pack.”
He tilted my face towards his with a delicate finger under my chin. “I’m going to protect you. I’m going to protect you, and our family, and our people”
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I fought in vain to hold back tears that suddenly p ricked at my eyes. Ignatius wiped them away, littering my damp checks with small k*sses.
That small act of affection was all I needed, what I wanted most in the world. I wanted my mate back. I wanted my loving. caring husband, not the icy shell he presented these days.
I gripped his face between my hands, pulling him into a forceful k*ss and demanding he let down his walls for me. I didn’t want comforting words, I wanted touch and affection, his warm b*dy molding into one.
The moment Ignatius’s lips touched mine, he took over, as if to fulfill my unspoken request. I had let something loose inside of him, the part of him I hadn’t seen for a while.
Ignatius fisted a hand in my hair, and pulled me onto his lap without breaking the passionate k*ss. I straddled him, moaning quietly against his mouth.
I dug my nails into his shoulders, arching my back when he slid a hand down my throat, fingers tightening there for a moment while he k*ssed me hard enough to leave me breathless
I came up gasping for air, clinging to him in desperation, in relief. He was here. He was warm, and solid, and all mine.
His hands slid under my shirt, fingers splaying across my back and pressing me to his chest. I snagged his bottom lip between my teeth, claiming him all over again while he ground his growing erection against my throbbing core.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging softly, gasping when his tongue probed my mouth.
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a blitzed, frantic entanglement that took place on the floor that night. Every clashing k*ss was a claim to our own, a
ion of undying love and unyielding devotion despite the odds.
He was mine, and I was his. And I would hold on to what we had with every bit of strength I could muster.
I lifted my arms in the air while Ignatius pulled my shirt off over my head, Fiercely crushing my lips against his, I curled my arms around him. Pressing our chests together, skin on skin, heart beats aligning to the same rhythmic pulse,
Ignatius grazed a thumb over my pebbled nipple, his mouth sliding down my throat to fasten at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. My hands reached down his back, brushing over stars while I moaned in pleasure
I slid my hand down his chest, tracing muscles down to the seam of his jeans. Ignatius groaned against my neck thrusting his hips upwards in eager arousal.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my chest heaving as Ignatius pressed his forehead to mine.
“I love you” He said it with force, gripping my face in his hands. He k*ssed me again, hungrily, desperate, like he was determined to assimilate into one entity with force of will alone. When he pulled back again, I was reeling. A trail of spittle bridged our lips.
My hair was pasted to my forehead with sweat, my cheeks streaked with tears. We were a mess, unraveled by our anxieties and flush with the effects of alcohol.
I gripped his shoulders, a so b shaking through my b*dy while fresh tears began to flow
“I love you,” I replied, ka ssing him again and again. One more would never be enough. My voice came out rasping and low with both arousal and relief. “Don’t ever shut me out again.”
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