Chapter 5 Chapter 5: She Likes to Bite

“Luna.” Theodore’s voice brushed the darkness, low and roughened with sleep.

“…Mm?” Her lashes fluttered; she met his gaze, dazed and soft.

The faint lamplight left only the distance of a breath between them.

“Happy wedding night,” he murmured, eyes glinting with quiet mischief.

She wound her arms around him as the night claimed them—his strength meeting her stubborn heart in equal measure.

The moment shattered into light; sensation raced through her until breath turned to a cry and the world fell utterly still.

Spent, she lay motionless, listening to the drum of her own pulse.

Sleep crept in, gentle and merciless.

When he emerged, a towel slung low around his hips, she was already curled in sleep—soft, unguarded. A rare smile flickered across his face.

He slid in beside her, gathered her against him, and let sleep take them both.

⸻

The next morning.

Luna floated between dream and waking until a sudden weight on her chest stole her breath.

She blinked awake to find an arm sprawled across her.

Temper flaring, she shoved it away. “Off, you brute.”

The arm promptly returned—as stubborn as its owner.

Irritation winning over reason, she sank her teeth into his forearm.

“Ow—” Theodore jerked upright, glaring.

Her laughter slipped out before she could stop it.

“Are you a puppy?” he muttered. “Should I fetch you a bone next time?”

She snorted. Silence won.

“Go ahead, bite my—” He stopped himself, smirking like a man who’d already said too much.

Luna arched a brow. Did he actually want that? The man was impossible.

“Where?” Her tone was pure challenge.

In answer, he tore the blanket aside and laughed. “Come on then—prove it.”

She yelped, clutching the sheet to her chest, scandalised and half-laughing.

A sharp knock spared them both.

“Mr Theodore,” came the butler’s voice, muffled through the door. “Mr John asks that you and Mrs Theodore come downstairs—Mr Noah has returned.”

“Understood,” Theodore called back, the words clipped. Footsteps retreated down the hall.

Luna blinked. Noah? The runaway groom? How in the world—

Theodore looked at her; she shot the glare straight back. “What?” she snapped.

He only shrugged and vanished into the closet, unapologetically bare.

She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Exhibitionist.

She tottered toward the bathroom on unsteady legs—last night’s “effort” having left its mark.

Washed and barely composed, she followed him downstairs to face whatever chaos Noah’s return would bring.