The Vampire's Luna

Kyllian, who had been leaning in the background, finally broke the silence. "I will leave you both to catch up," he said evenly, though his eyes lingered on Luna longer than necessary, a shadow of reluctance crossing his features. He turned on his heel and left, his heavy steps fading into the stone corridors.

The door had barely clicked shut before Damien’s voice came. "I’m going to go see my son when I leave here." His eyes blazed with a determination that brooked no compromise.

Luna’s hand shot out, grasping his wrist. "No... Damien. You cannot. We cannot see him right now. Doctor Thessa is there with him." She swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat. Every fiber of her being wanted to run to her child.

"Luna," He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. "We do not know if he is going to survive this. I would like to at least see him before he..." His words faltered, the finality of them clawing at his throat. His chest heaved with restrained anguish.

"Don’t... don’t say that," Luna cut him off sharply. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill. She pulled back enough to look at him. "I gave Morvakar permission to torture my son... our son. I did! His mother. He has to live—and not subject his mother to carry that guilt for the rest of her life."

Damien’s throat tightened, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled her into his arms. He bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head, breathing her in as though memorizing her scent was the only thing anchoring him. "Okay," he whispered. His lips brushed against her hairline, then trailed briefly to her temple. "Usually, breaking a vampire takes about three days." He closed his eyes, forcing himself to sound steady, to give her hope. "I will come back here then, and we will go together. Is that okay?"

Luna nodded against his chest. Her heart hammered violently, torn between her queenly strength and the unbearable weight of a mother’s guilt. She clung to Damien, inhaling the warmth of his skin, grounding herself in the mate bond.

He tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. His own were glassy with emotion, but steady. "Three days," he repeated softly, almost like a vow. Then his lips brushed hers in a kiss.

"I need to tell you something though," Damien started. His fingers lingered on the curve of Luna’s waist as if grounding himself before speaking.

Luna pulled away slightly, tilting her head as though she had been expecting this moment all along. A knowing smile curved her lips. "I know, Damien," she whispered. "I smell her on you." And though her chest clenched, she was his queen, not a fragile mistress to be pitied.

Damien’s eyes widened with surprise, shame flickering across his features. "I wouldn’t have if..." He faltered, his mouth tightening, as if even offering an explanation was beneath her. "Luna, I swear—"

She silenced him with a single finger pressed against his lips. "Sssh," she breathed. "I am very proud of you. And whatever this means for us, we will face it together. You asked me to promise to fight for you...." Her finger slid down, tracing the edge of his jaw, nails grazing his stubble. "I will. Obsessively. Even when you don’t want me to."

A growl rumbled deep in Damien’s chest, torn between relief and arousal at her words. His eyes darkened, heat igniting between them. "Goddess, I love you." He pulled her to him with sudden urgency, crushing his mouth against hers. The kiss was rough as though he needed to erase every trace of doubt, every shadow of another’s scent, and brand her with his own. His hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip possessively, holding her against the solid wall of his body.

Luna chuckled into the kiss, the sound vibrating against his lips. It was a laugh laced with triumph, with the smug knowledge that she had claimed him in ways no rival could undo. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her tongue teasing, her body molding to his. Even as jealousy still throbbed like a bruise beneath her skin, she turned it into fire, into passion that burned only for him.

"When are you coming home?" Damien asked against her lips. His hand slid down her arm, fingers intertwining with hers as if to tether her to him. He looked at her with the raw yearning of a man who had fought death itself and still feared losing the one thing that made life worth the struggle.

"When Morvakar is done with our child," she answered softly, but firmly. "Of course, we can’t take him into Blood City yet until the council can reconsider their verdict about killing him." Her throat tightened at the cruel absurdity of it—a mother having to negotiate her child’s right to live with cold politicians.

"If he makes it through," Damien said, "I promise he is coming home. I promise you that." His hand pressed over hers, squeezing as though to pass his strength into her.

Luna’s lips curved into a smile, small but luminous. She believed him. Not just because he was her king, but because he had survived the poison, because he had chosen her again and again, because beneath the scars of power and betrayal, he was still her Damien. Now that he wasn’t dying anymore, she would fight alongside him—not just as his wife, not just as his queen, but as his most valued mate. Her heart hardened with a new resolve, her smile darkening with a queen’s pride. Every other mate bond would be crushed beneath her feet. She would do whatever it took—whatever it took to keep him hers.

"Have you thought of names?" she asked.

"Ugh...yes but I am not telling you until we have the naming ceremony." Damien smiled.

"You really think you can bring him home." Luna asked.