The Vampire's Luna

Damien blinked, thrown slightly. "I did no such thing."

Morvakar finally looked up, dark eyes flashing. "I hear everything that goes on in this house."

Damien’s lips curled in irritation. "That just makes you a creep."

"You do not deserve her. Sorry excuse for a mate," Morvakar muttered.

"Okay... Can you send a message to Blood City?" Damien asked through gritted teeth, attempting diplomacy even though his patience was thinner than vampire skin in sunlight.

"Are you looking for an excuse to have me killed?"

"What?"

"I was exiled, remember?" the sorcerer snapped. "I cannot have anything to do with Blood City. Sending a message is a violation of my banishment. Instant execution."

"Oh," Damien muttered. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and exhaled deeply. "We need to get out of here."

Morvakar cocked a brow, unimpressed. "What? You don’t like my company?"

Damien gave him a look that screamed do you really want me to answer that?

"No," Damien said dryly. "I do not. I would like to get to Blood City and inform my father and the court of what has happened."

Morvakar gave a dramatic gasp and placed a hand over his chest. "Oh, no! You got your knickers in a twist because you got a pinch in the back? Poor baby. You want a bottle of blood milk and a lullaby too?"

Damien stared at him. "Morvakar, might I remind you that you are speaking to the vampire prince of Blood City and I can have you beheaded."

"You are an idiot focusing his energy on the wrong battle," Morvakar continued, waving his arms. "The first question you should be asking is: Who arranged the attack on the werewolves? Second: What are their motives? Third—and this one’s important—Where the fuck are they hiding?"

"If I could get to Blood City, I would ask all of those questions," Damien muttered.

Morvakar arched a brow. "Your mate carried you here unconscious. Carried you on her back, might I emphasize," he said. "And you call her selfish the moment you wake up. Such gratitude. It must be a royal thing."

Damien looked away, jaw tight. Shame prickled under his skin. "I guess that was unfair," he admitted with a sigh. "But what is it to you?"

Morvakar stared at Damien. Then he shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You’re right. It shouldn’t bother me. It’s none of my business."

"But," Morvakar added, eyes narrowing just a little, "she charged me with something. A responsibility. Something I intend to carry out."

Damien frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Later tonight," he said. "When she’s asleep. You and I will speak. Properly. And I’ll send a damn carrier pigeon to your father."

He turned to leave but glanced back once more. "Let’s just hope your father doesn’t rip my head off when he sees my signature on the letter."

*****

Ravena stepped out of the black car.

"Your Highness, you are welcome," Kyllian said, approaching her with reverent steps.

She didn’t return the bow or the formality. Her eyes were steady as stone and twice as cold. "You can suspend the honorific, Kyllian," she said. "That title is meant for your wife to be now."

Kyllian faltered, visibly caught off guard. "I was too late, Your Highness. I’m sorry. I am so sorry," he said.

"It’s not your fault, Kyllian. Where is he?" Ravena asked. Her face was drawn with sorrow.

"In the throne room," Kyllian answered, his posture rigid. He hadn’t expected her to be this calm. It would’ve been easier if she had shouted, slapped him. But this quiet resolve unnerved him more than rage ever could.

She took a breath. "What is this I hear about you hunting the princess and the vampire prince?"

"Someone has to pay for the death of our king. The vampires did this."

Ravena’s eyes snapped up. "You know as well as I do that the royals of Blood City had nothing to do with this, unless..." She stepped closer. "Unless you have another reason you’re going after Damien."

"The last thing the king charged me with was to protect Luna," he said. "It was my final order. I intend to keep it. And if anyone is going to sit on the throne beside me..." He lifted his chin, meeting her gaze. "It will be her."

"You don’t protect someone by caging them, Kyllian," she said, softer now. "You protect them by giving them the freedom to choose. You know Luna. Even if you force her to sit on the throne beside you, she’ll never truly be yours. That’s not the kind of woman she is."

"I need to mourn my husband in peace—not while holding my breath, afraid of a war breaking out."

"Call off the hunt," she ordered. "Whatever you need to do after my husband is buried and the mourning period is over is up to you now. You are king now. The rise or fall of our kingdom rests on your shoulders."

She turned away from him then. Her back was ramrod straight. At the doors of the castle, she paused. "I truly hope that you will think things through before you act," she added.

The moment Queen Ravena stepped into the throne room, she was no longer the poised monarch who had held her head high before Kyllian. The moment her eyes met the lifeless body of her mate, the queen in her took flight. What remained was a grieving mate.

Her feet staggered forward. Her hands trembled violently as she approached the body, as if her mind and body refused to accept what she was seeing. Then came the first sob. It rose from her chest and broke from her lips. It sounded like love being ripped apart.

Ravena reached the platform and collapsed on Magnus’s still form, hugging him tightly, as if by sheer will she could force warmth back into his skin. "You promised me you’d never leave," she whispered into the crook of his neck.

Her sobs racked through her body, and even the guards nearby had to look away.