The Vampire's Luna

"I see it in your eyes," Luna countered softly. "I see it in your actions. The way you look at me, Damien. The way you fight like the world itself could be lost if I am. Maybe..." she paused, "...maybe we don’t need words at all."

"Maybe we don’t," he agreed, and there was raw need laced in his tone. With that, he closed the final inches of distance, wrapped her into his arms, and crushed his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss.

Her fingers instantly tangled into his hair, tugging him closer, unwilling to allow even an inch of space between them. His hand trailed up the column of her neck, calloused fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin until he found his mark—the scar of their eternal bond etched into her flesh. His thumb lingered there, tracing reverently, as though reminding himself it existed, as though testing the reality of it.

Luna moaned into his mouth, her body shivering under the electric tug of the mate bond, and then instinct took over. Her head tilted back, exposing her throat to him in a silent surrender only he was allowed to claim. Damien growled low in his chest, before replacing his thumb with his lips. His mouth latched onto the mark, and the bond roared to life.

The world dissolved. Stars exploded behind Luna’s eyes, the bond pulling on every thread of her being until she was nothing but him, nothing but them. Her nails raked gently down his shoulders. "Damien..." she gasped his name.

Her hands fumbled, shaking with urgency, as she reached for the buttons of his shirt. One popped open, then another, and then all caution vanished. She undid them frantically, needing skin, needing proof, needing the warmth of his body against hers. The fabric slipped away under her touch, falling uselessly to the floor, and in its place came the sight of his sculpted shoulders, his chest hewn from strength.

Damien let the fabric of Luna’s little dress slip from his fingers, watching as it dropped down her shoulders and pooled around her ankles. He simply stared—his queen, his wife, his mate. Every curve of her body was etched in his memory, yet in that moment, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time. His throat tightened, emotion fighting with desire, and when her whisper came, it nearly unraveled him.

"Goddess, I missed you," Luna breathed, her lips brushing his ear. She ran her tongue along the delicate shell.

"It’s going to be a long night," he murmured, dragging his teeth across the sensitive place where her neck met her shoulder, "or a short one... depends how you look at it."

Luna’s laugh bubbled out despite the fire curling in her belly. Her fingers curled into his hair as he moved her toward the bed, his kisses trailing lower until they landed at the swell of her breasts. She arched into him. "No, no... I want you... now."

The command in her tone, sharp with need, made Damien pause. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. For the rest of the world, he was a king, a warrior. But here—under her eyes, beneath her touch—he was a man brought to his knees. A willing servant. He gave a small nod, lips twitching with surrender. "Who am I to disobey my queen?"

In a swift motion, he rid himself of his trousers, the hunger in him almost feral but his movements careful. He wanted to savor her, yet the urgency in her trembling body was a force he couldn’t ignore. He entered her gently, his lips covering hers with a softness that belied the storm inside him.

But Luna, ever his fire, was not built for patience. Her hips rose to meet his, urging him on. The slow rhythm was driving her mad, and when her silent pleas went unanswered, frustration burned hotter than desire. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her heels pressing into the small of his back. She shoved him deeper inside her with a ferocity that tore a gasp from his lips.

Still, he held to his maddening pace. The corners of his mouth quirked in wicked defiance, as though enjoying her torment. It was too much. Luna’s nails dug into his shoulders, her chest heaving as she snapped.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"What?" Damien asked, feigning innocence, though the wicked curl of his lips betrayed him. He knew exactly what she meant. He knew the game he was playing and he relished every second of watching her squirm beneath him. But Luna wasn’t fooled. The gleam in her eyes, sharp as the moon’s edge, told him she saw through the act.

She bit her lip, a dangerous little gesture that made his control snap and bend. Then came her smile—too sweet, too sugary. "Would you please fuck me properly?" she asked.

"It’s been only a few days since the birth, Luna." He’d been holding back for her sake, terrified of breaking her.

She leaned up, brushing her lips against his, her kiss short but brimming with gratitude. "You’re so sweet," she whispered. But then her fire sparked again. She drew back, eyes flashing. "But I’m not some fragile princess. Now fuck me!"

Damien’s shoulders shook with the laughter he barely managed to bite back. The contrast—the softness in one breath, the fierce demand in the next—was so entirely her. His queen. His wild, unstoppable Luna. "Yes, ma’am," he answered.

He pushed into her with a force that erased any doubt, his body moving with the knowledge born of nights spent tangled in her. He knew every gasp, every cry, every quiver. He gave her what she asked for—what he knew she craved—the way she liked it, the way that branded her as his. The sound that broke from her lips was long, a moan that clawed at his sanity. Her nails dug into his back with a fierceness that only made him drive harder.

"Goddess, yes!" Luna cried. She moved with him, hips rising and falling, guiding his rhythm into the frantic pace she needed.