The Vampire's Luna

He turned his face toward her, meeting her gaze. There was no dodging this, not with her. Not when she could still read him like an open book.

"Really," he said, exhaling. "We have it under control. Our child just gave us confirmation he’s a Trueblood. He’s strong. He was feeding on you, and you collapsed because of the blood loss."

Luna processed the gravity of that information. Then, she quirked a brow. "Oh... well. I guess we’ll have to notify the kitchen to start including some blood in my meals."

"I think Doctor Thessa already gave those instructions," Damien replied.

"She seems efficient," Luna murmured, then grew quiet. Her hand drifted to her stomach again. "Damien, you know there’s only one person equipped to deal with this."

"I know...You mean Morvakar."

Luna nodded. "I have to see him."

"We will," Damien promised, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "But we need to be sure you can handle the trip. You lost a lot of blood."

Before either could speak again, a soft knock came at the chamber door.

"Your Highness," came the muffled voice of one of the palace guards, "Sage Veyron is here to see you."

Damien pressed a lingering kiss to Luna’s forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin. "I’ll be right back," he whispered. He gently brushed his fingers across her cheek before forcing himself to stand.

*****

Damien entered the royal sitting room to find Sage Veyron and Doctor Thessally waiting, both standing.

"What is this?" Damien asked.

"Your Highness," Veyron began with an apologetic dip of his head, "I beg you not to be annoyed that Doctor Thessa spoke with me. She feared for her life."

Damien’s brow arched higher. "And clearly ran to the most comforting man in the kingdom—you," he muttered dryly, folding his arms. "What’s going on?"

Veyron nudged Thessa forward. "You tell him," he whispered loudly.

Thessa took a breath. "Your Highness," she said cautiously, "to sustain the child the princess carries... it requires a quantity of blood daily that is, well... technically illegal in Blood City."

Damien narrowed his eyes, but remained quiet.

"We’re talking at least one liter a day," Thessa added, quickly stepping back, as if distance would protect her from any outburst.

"Why?...What’s different about this Trueblood pregnancy?"

Veyron cleared his throat dramatically, stepping into the conversation. "Well," he began, "when a vampire of true blood lineage carries a child, the body adapts. There’s no unnatural craving, no external need for extra blood. Think of it as... self-sustaining magic."

Thessa nodded. "Yes. But for a werewolf mother," she continued, "the child is growing in a body filled with blood already. The baby has developed a taste for blood—it’s instinctual. And it’s not just feeding. It’s learning. Building. It’s already carved out its diet and is now, quite literally, dining from the inside."

Damien exhaled slowly and dropped into the couch. "Oh..."

"You’re taking this well," Thessa noted, cautiously hopeful.

Damien stared at the ceiling. "One liter of blood a day. That’s like... three full glasses. Every single day."

"Your Highness, I know the precarious situation this puts you in," Sage Veyron said solemnly, standing with his hands behind his back.

"Precarious?" Damien snorted, rising from the couch. "You mean impossible...How... where do I even get it? I can’t exactly post a royal decree: ’Blood donations welcome for my unborn child, thank you, long live the crown!’"

Thessa bit her lip but wisely said nothing.

Damien turned sharply to her. "What happens without that quantity?"

"The mother dies," she said. "Then the child."

Damien’s spine locked into place. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.

He slowly turned back to Veyron. "Veyron..."

But the sage had already anticipated the storm. "Your Highness, I do not want you to worry. Provisions can—and will—be made," he said, stepping forward. "There are ways."

Damien narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying? We’d be breaking the law. These laws exist for a reason. We are not monsters."

"No," Veyron agreed gently. "We’re not. But the people who wrote those laws weren’t trying to keep a royal heir alive."

Damien rubbed a hand down his face, exasperated. "I can’t believe I’m even considering this."

"Your Highness, I do not mean to antagonize you," Veyron said, lowering his voice slightly.

Damien waved him off. "When have you ever stopped yourself?" he snapped.

Veyron pursed his lips in thought. "There was a meeting last year where I—"

"That was rhetorical," Damien growled, collapsing back onto the couch.

"In this case," Veyron continued, "the end justifies the means. The child has to live."

"You think I don’t know that?" Damien barked.

He stood again, suddenly restless. "But how am I supposed to get one liter of blood out of the vault daily for six months?"

"You don’t," Veyron said simply. "You cannot get your hands dirty. You’re too visible. Too watched. If Gabriel gets even the faintest scent of this, he’ll use it against you faster than a starving hawk."

Damien clenched his jaw. "So what then?"

"Let me," Veyron said calmly.

Damien raised a brow. "You?"

"I have connections," Veyron said. I think I can handle discreetly sourcing medical-grade blood."

"You mean to tell me," Damien said slowly, "that you want me to stand here, watch you break the law, and do nothing about it."

Veyron’s hands were still clasped behind his back, posture straight. "Yes," he said simply. "That’s exactly what I’m saying."

Damien threw his hands in the air. "Fantastic. This is a new level of madness."

"I would lay down my life for this cause," Veyron replied. His gaze locked on Damien’s. "And I don’t say that lightly. You know I don’t say anything lightly."

Damien faltered. "Veyron..."

The older man stepped forward, lowering his voice. "It would be my honor. I have been by your side since you were a child. I watched you learn to walk, to fight—"

"—and I have protected you when no one else would," Veyron finished. "Now it’s your turn to protect us. You will grant me this."