His Rogue Luna is a Princess (Mia and Derek) novel Chapter 55

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Chapter 55

ELENA

I couldn’t breathe.

Dawn was grinning like she’d just won the lottery. Aiden was bouncing beside her, clapping like it was the best day of his life.

And the bouquet?

Firmly in my hands.

The damn thing had sailed through the air like it had a tracker locked onto my scent and landed squarely against my chest. I hadn’t even tried to catch it. In fact, I’d dodged.

And still, it had landed in my hands like the Moon Goddess herself was playing

matchmaker with a sick sense of humor.

Before I could blink, the garter was flying through the air, and like some twisted joke from fate, Derek caught it.

His smirk as he held it up? I wanted to slap it right off his face.

“Oh no,” I muttered, eyes scanning the crowd for an escape route.

“Make it a long, slow dance!” someone called gleefully. The crowd was already parting, heading back to the tables that surrounded the dance floor so everyone could watch my humiliation from the comfort of their seats.

“No,” I said under my breath. “No, no, no.”

“Come on, Elena,” Dawn called, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Don’t make me throw another one.”

Traitor.

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Aiden was practically vibrating beside me. “You have to dance. It’s in the wedding rules!”

There were rules now?

Derek was already making his way through the crowd, the damn garter in one hand, and something unreadable in his expression. He wasn’t cocky now. He looked… solemn. Intent.

“Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand.

I stared at it like it might bite me. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably,” he agreed, still holding it out.

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Reluctantly–because I knew there was no way out of this without causing a scene–I took it. His fingers wrapped around mine, warm and steady, and I hated how good that felt.

The music changed, a slow, dreamy guitar started thrumming. Not the playful bop I’d hoped for. Of course not. No, this was soft and aching, the kind of song you fall in love to.

The kind of song we might’ve danced to once. If things had been different.

Derek pulled me into position, one hand settling at the small of my back, the other still clasping mine. His grip was firm but gentle, like he wasn’t sure if I’d bolt.

And oh, I wanted to.

Our bodies fit together too easily, too familiarly. It wasn’t like the Alpha Ball, where everything was fire and challenge and fury. This… this was worse.

This was yearning.

We moved.in perfect synchrony, not missing a step. My heart beat double time. He smelled like cedar and forest smoke and clean soap, and it was all too much. I kept my gaze trained on his shoulder, anywhere but his face.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.

“Don’t.”

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He didn’t flinch. Just kept moving with me, slow and steady.

“I mean it. That dress… you always wore green well.”

My throat tightened. “That was Mia. You don’t know what I wear anymore.”

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I’ve never known you better.”

That made me look up, meeting his eyes. Stormy, conflicted, haunted. And full of something I wasn’t ready to name.

“You still hate me?” he murmured.

“Yes,” I said, but my voice was hoarse. Weak.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good.”

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We danced in silence, the world fading to a soft blur around us. Familiar. Comfortable.

No. No.

“Tell me what happened with the rogue attack,” I said, unwilling to be sucked into whatever magic seemed to be floating around us.

His jaw clenched. “You want to talk about this now?”

“Yes.”

We turned with the music, his hand tightening slightly at my waist.

“They weren’t random,” he said finally. “They weren’t just feral rogues out for blood. They were organized.”

A chill slid down my spine. “Organized how?”

“They hit the flanks first. Took out our driver before we even knew what was happening. It

was surgical.” His gaze darkened. “They were testing our weaknesses. Seeing how fast we’d respond. How strong our defense was.”

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I swallowed hard. “So what does that mean?”

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“It means,” he said, his voice dropping to something colder, “you need to be careful. You

could be next.”

The music was still playing, but it was a distant hum now, drowned out by the hammering of my heart.

“You don’t get to say that,” I said, yanking my hand out of his. “You don’t get to-”

He grabbed my wrist–not hard, just enough to hold me there. “I’m not saying it to scare you.”

“Then why say it?”

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“Because someone has to.” He leaned in closer, and I hated how my breath caught when he did. “Because I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

The words hit me like a gut punch, cracking through the armor I’d built up since the

moment I walked out on him on our wedding day.

I was incensed. I stopped coldly though the music still played and yanked my hand away from his grasp.

And then–flash.

A camera.

Then another.

“Hey!” someone yelled. “You’re not the wedding photographer!”

Murmurs rose up from the collection of guests, and I turned sharply, just in time to see a figure in black dart through the back of the reception hall, camera clutched tight to their chest. Derek swore under his breath, already moving.

“Wait!” I called, but he was gone, weaving through startled guests like a wolf on a mission.

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The murmurs in the room swelled to mutterings. Guests whispering. Staring.

“Mom!” Aiden called and darted over to my side. He looked up at me with concern.

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