The Vampire's Luna

Somehow, they had managed to block out the punishing rays of the sun, she could see the faint shimmer of the protective barrier overhead, a dome of enchanted glass filtering daylight in. They experienced full day and night here, but the vampires could move freely, their pale skin unscorched.

At the first checkpoint, the car slowed. Two guards in sleek armor stepped forward.

"State your name and purpose," he asked.

"Princess Luna Sinclaire," she replied coolly. "I’m here on Prince Damien’s invitation."

Her face was scanned by a tiny device that hummed a little too close to her lashes. The guards checked her name against a list and searched the vehicle.

Eventually, the silver gate whooshed open with a majestic sound. "Proceed."

The driver gave a small sigh of relief, and Luna tried not to grin.

At the second checkpoint, the mood shifted. The car stopped again, but this time the guards were more solemn, dressed in darker uniforms.

"Please exit the vehicle, Your Highness," one of them said, not unkindly. "Your driver may not continue."

Luna glanced at the man behind the wheel. He looked at panicking. Her father was probably going to kill him if he returned without her.

"It’s alright," she told him softly. "I’ll be fine."

He gave her a skeptical look but nodded and slowly turned the vehicle around.

Her bags were retrieved and carefully placed into another car, sleek, black, and with tinted windows. A young woman stepped out to meet her, dressed in a tailored black suit.

"Welcome to the Blood Castle, Princess," she said, bowing politely. "King Lucivar has been notified of your arrival. I’ll be escorting you the rest of the way."

As Luna stepped into the vampire car, heart thudding, she couldn’t help but smirk to herself.

She was driven to the Blood Castle. Luna sat in stunned silence for most of the ride.

But the moment she caught her first glimpse of the Blood Castle, her breath caught in her throat and then promptly abandoned her.

It wasn’t a castle.

It was castles. Plural. Dozens. A sweeping, intricate tapestry of towers and keeps, domes and balconies, all interconnected with arched walkways that gleamed. The whole structure looked like a fantasy.

Luna’s jaw dropped, unapologetically.

This wasn’t just a home. It was an empire. And Damien had been born to rule it.

She was still gaping when the car glided to a stop and the door was opened for her. As she stepped out, she was immediately greeted by none other than King Lucivar himself.

"The werewolf princess!" Lucivar boomed with surprising warmth, arms outstretched as if greeting an old friend. "Welcome!"

"Thank you, Your Highness," Luna replied, managing a graceful curtsy despite being internally short-circuiting. "You have a magnificent city. Are you holding out on the rest of us?"

Lucivar laughed. "We just have a good contract with some geniuses in the human world.They procure whatever’s useful for us. In exchange, we offer them a rather generous compensation package."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Immortality?"

Lucivar grinned. "The deluxe version. Eternal youth, immunity to disease. Who wouldn’t want to live forever? Come, darling. Let’s walk. Is there a reason Prince Damien didn’t escort you?"

Luna hesitated. "I wanted to surprise him," she admitted. "It’s complicated. There’s... a lot we haven’t resolved."

Lucivar gave her a knowing glance. "Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about him?"

Luna’s eyes widened. "Gods, no. I mean...no. Not exactly. I’m just... trying to be considerate of his feelings."

She turned her gaze upward to take in the sweeping grandeur again. "And seeing all of this... my god... This is your kingdom. Damien’s kingdom."

Lucivar nodded, lips pressing into a thin smile. "Yes. He is to carry it all. But an abandoned prince, cannot be a king."

Luna stood there for a long moment, heart thudding. Damien had all of this on his shoulders. This entire silver-shadowed world, these people, this legacy. And he still had time to chase her.

Well, she thought, I’ll be damned.

*****

Magnus was beyond pissed. It was a seething, chest-thumping, table-flipping kind of fury that only came when your daughter, your only daughter ran off without a guard, without a word, and to a castle full of vampires. That insufferably smug, bloodsucking bastard definitely had something to do with this.

With enough force to rattle the portraits in the hallway, Magnus banged on the heavy door of the guest chambers. It swung open with practiced calmness, and Damien shirt slightly unbuttoned, hair tousled stood there.

"Your Highness," Damien greeted smoothly. "Is everything alright?"

Magnus stormed past him without waiting for permission but etiquette was the last thing on his mind. "Do you know about this?" he demanded, eyes blazing.

Damien’s brow furrowed with genuine confusion. "I don’t know what’s going on. What are you talking about?"

"My daughter," Magnus growled. "Left for the Blood Castle this morning."

Damien’s lips twitched before curling into a grin. "She did?"

He wasn’t sure which emotion hit first. Was it hope, panic, or joy that made his dead heart do cartwheels. Luna was coming to him. Of her own will.

"I can’t believe this is funny to you," Magnus snapped.

"I didn’t say it was funny," Damien replied, although his smile was very much still there. "It’s just... unexpected."

"You will go there right now," Magnus ordered, pointing as if that would somehow compel obedience from a vampire prince, "and you will bring her back here."

Damien folded his arms across his chest, lazy defiance in every inch of him. "I cannot do that. Not if she doesn’t want to come back."

Magnus’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "Tell her it’s an order from her king!"

Damien shrugged one elegant shoulder. "You did ask us to ’get the mate thing out of our system,’ didn’t you? Maybe this is her way of doing that. Let her have the two weeks. If she wants to return, I’ll personally escort her back, safe and sound."

"If?" Magnus echoed, eyes bulging. "If? There is no if! She will come back, and she will marry Kyllian! Is that understood?"

Damien’s smile vanished. "Your Highness," he said calmly, "you seem to forget that you are, in fact, speaking to a vampire prince. I take orders from no one. Not even you."

Magnus opened his mouth to explode again, but Damien raised a hand.

"That said," Damien continued. "I will do right by your daughter. I will protect her. I will never force anything on her. Every decision, every choice, will be hers and hers alone."

Then Damien added with a crooked, infuriating smile, "And if she does want to stay... well, I suggest you start looking for a decent vampire wedding planner."

"You are in my territory, Prince Damien. Under my roof. I will give the orders when and however I like it." King Magnus’ voice thundered.

Damien merely rolled his eyes and turned ever so slightly, casually adjusting the button of his dark shirt. "You can give all the orders you like, Your Highness," he said coolly. "But like I said, I don’t take them."

Damien gave a slight bow. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare to go out into the sun. Risking my skin to find out what your daughter is up to."

King Magnus huffed. Not a dignified, kingly sigh. This was a dad sigh.

With a grumble, he stormed away.

Damien stood alone now, the momentary smirk fading from his lips. He stared out the high window, at the growing daylight. A dangerous time for his kind. But what was severe sunburn when Luna was involved?

"What the fuck are you up to, My Moonlight?" he murmured under his breath.

*****

Across the grand expanse of the Vampire City, news was traveling faster than a bat in heat.

Seliora heard the whispers before she even had her lunch brought to her.

Seliora’s eyes narrowed. She had never actually believed Damien would find his mate mostly because she’d prayed to the Blood Goddess that he wouldn’t. Not because she cared for fate, or tradition, or even the stability of the kingdom.

But because she wanted him.

And now some flea-bitten, moon-kissed mutt had strolled in and claimed what Seliora had loyally waited decades for?

Absolutely not.

With her curls perfectly pinned, Seliora marched toward the guest castle.

When she arrived, two stoic guards stood at attention. "I’d like to see the werewolf princess," she said sweetly, though her voice carried the lethal edge of poisoned honey.

The guards didn’t flinch. "The princess isn’t here, my lady," one replied.

"She was taken to the prince’s castle," the other added.

Seliora’s nostrils flared. "The prince’s castle?" she repeated slowly, as if tasting something bitter. "And what, pray tell, gives her that right?"

"The king took her there himself."

"What?" Seliora spat. She had been staying in the Blood Castle for almost fifty years and she had never been allowed in the Prince’s castle without permission. Even when she did, she didn’t stay for more than a few minutes.

Seliora turned away from the guest castle entrance. It seemed Lucivar had taken a side and it was not hers.