Chapter 542 Not His Luna

• *Ella*
• Ryatt keeps a firm grip on my wrist as he leads me through his maze of a castle. Dressed in a form fitting black shirt and black pants and free of his leather armor, I can see every solid line of his body from his ripped chest to his muscular thighs. He moves like a predator honing in on its prey when we reach his bedroom–our bedroom–and shuts the door firmly behind him.
• The sun is beginning to set. The curtains whisper in the cool mountain breeze as golden light floods the room through the open doors leading to the balcony. A dinner service has been laid out on a round table near one of the ceiling-height windows–steak, vegetables, salad, and bread–as well as a few plates of fruit and dessert.