The Vampire's Luna

It had been centuries since anyone had clung to him this way. "I am truly sorry. I am."

She pulled back just enough to look into his face, still streaked with tears but steely with resolve. "Promise me you will try."

Morvakar hesitated—for a fraction of a second. Then he nodded. "I promise."

"Is there anything I can do to ease his pain?" she asked.

Morvakar finally gave her the first true smile he’d worn all day. It was crooked. Oddly charming. "Well, that I can do." He stepped back, rolling his neck dramatically. "But I should warn you, it’s going to hurt a bit. So, please don’t stab me again."

Luna managed a weak laugh through her sobs. "You do deserve to be stabbed, if we are being honest."

"True," he agreed, and then spread his hands wide.

The air shimmered like heat above a fire as his fingers began to trace an ancient sigil in the air. Luna felt the change immediately. A tightening at the base of her throat, then a pulsing warmth that built into a sharp, stinging flare.

She gasped, her hand flying to the mark. It glowed fiercely. Her knees buckled slightly as the sting intensified to pain, bright and searing.

"Breathe through it, princess," Morvakar said with far too much enjoyment.

The mark dimmed and finally settled into a soft throb. The pain ebbed. Luna straightened with a ragged breath, sweat beading at her brow.

"You were his poison, now you will be his balm. As long as he is close to you, the pain will be minimal, tolerable."

Luna swallowed, her throat burning. "You will try to save him, right?" she asked again.

Morvakar sighed. "I will," he said. "But I am not promising that I can."

Luna nodded slowly, her shoulders rising and falling as the reality settled into her bones. The wind outside howled through broken shutters as she stepped away from the sorcerer. She didn’t cry again. She’d run out of tears—or perhaps she’d just decided that tonight, action would speak louder than pain.

When she left Morvakar’s ruined castle, the air outside seemed a little heavier. A little colder. She saw her mate in a new light now. No... Damien had been racing against death. Loving her even as it pulled him under. She had spat venom at the hand trying to hold her. She had pushed him away when he had only ever pulled her close.

She climbed into her car with one goal in mind: to fix what she had broken.

*****

Damien was just arriving home, weariness clinging to him. The castle was quiet. He dropped his suit, kicked off his shoes, and winced as a familiar ache pulsed in his head.

Just as he began to head for the stairs, one of Luna’s maids hurried into the foyer.

"Your Highness!" she exclaimed.

Damien’s eyes widened, heart thudding. "What’s wrong? Is the princess okay?" He was already halfway across the hall.

"Yes, she is quite fine. She merely requests your presence."

He stopped. "Oh..." The tension drained from his shoulders. His face twisted slightly in relief. "Tell her I am tired tonight. I’ll see her at work tomorrow."

He turned, brushing past her, when the maid cleared her throat.

"She said you might say so," the maid replied. "And to tell you... and I quote: ’I will bring down Blood Castles if he does not come. Start a scandal so huge it’ll make history teachers blush.’ Her exact words, Your Highness."

"...She really said that?"

The maid nodded solemnly. "Verbatim, Your Highness."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a slow grin tugging at the edge of his mouth despite himself. "She’s dramatic," he muttered.

Damien sighed, a hand on his hip. "Fine," he said. "Tell the princess I’ll be there shortly."

The maid curtsied. "As you wish, Your Highness."

As she left, Damien stared at the ornate doors, heart thumping faster now. A whisper of hope stirred in his chest. Luna wanted to see him. And if he knew her as well as he thought he did, she was probably planning something reckless.

And heaven help him... he missed her recklessness.

Damien thought about the way Luna must have said it. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Crazy woman," he muttered, but there was a fondness in his tone. A softness that hadn’t been there for days.

He began the long walk to her building, set at the far edge of the Blood Castles.

When he stepped into the building, the living area was empty. His senses sharpened, searching, then there it was—her heartbeat.

Without hesitation, he followed the rhythmic pull. It led him down the hallway to a closed door—her bedroom. He didn’t bother knocking.

He threw the door open.

There she stood, draped in lingerie. Dark crimson lace hugged her curves, whispering promises and wickedness, with sheer silk panels that hinted and hid just enough to drive him insane. Her hair tumbled down in waves, her skin glowing.

"What’s this?" he asked, feigning disinterest, though his voice had dropped an octave and his eyes had already darkened. His hand gripped the doorframe with more force than necessary.

Luna smiled slowly, wickedly. "I was hoping you wouldn’t come." The way she said it, coy and teasing, made his jaw twitch.

"I was going to dare you," he muttered, pretending to examine the ceiling. "I decided not to."

"Why?" she asked, sauntering forward with all the seduction of a seasoned temptress, though a flicker of vulnerability danced behind her eyes. This was her way of reaching out. Her peace offering.

He crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe. "Because I know you well enough not to dare you." He smirked, gaze trailing lazily down her body. "Just out of curiosity, what would you have done?"

Luna lifted a shoulder, graceful, unbothered. But her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I planned on coming all the way to you, dressed like this." She twirled slowly, giving him the full view, clearly proud of the way his mouth parted slightly.