The Vampire's Luna

The doors shut behind them. Damien inhaled sharply, and without hesitation he pulled Luna against him. His arms wrapped her up, his mouth pressing against her hair. He knew. He fucking knew. He felt every ripple of her pain through their bond as if it were his own. He had been there before—writhing in torment at seeing her with Kyllian. He had lived the taste of rejection, the helpless burn of watching her lean toward someone else while his whole body howled for her. And now the cycle had twisted, cruelly giving Luna that same poison. Damien’s grip tightened as though he could squeeze the jealousy out of her, his lips grazing the curve of her ear as he murmured, "I love you, YOU."

Luna wanted to be strong, above such pettiness, but gods, it burned. "I hate that it hurts," she whispered. "I hate that she has your mark."

"I know."

*****

Isolde straightened slowly, her spine stiff as a blade the moment the royal highnesses had departed. She clasped her hands in front of her to stop them from trembling. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. She had endured the queen’s presence, the king’s scorching gaze.

"You wanted to see me," he began.

"Yes, my lord. I received a message... that I was to leave Blood Castles immediately. I... I don’t mind leaving." Her lashes fluttered down as she spoke, partly to hide the tears threatening to burn her eyes. "I just... I have nowhere to go. All my life, I was a maid in another city entirely. I stayed because the queen asked me to stay. And you—you promised I would be well taken care of. I am not trying to be greedy..."

Lucivar raised his hand, cutting her words short. "It’s okay. I am sorry. I made a promise I thought I could keep. But if you don’t mind staying outside the Blood Castles, it is very okay. You will be rewarded handsomely, of course."

"I do not need reward. I choose to believe I did my duty. All I need is a place to stay, and I can find a job in town." The dignity in her voice surprised even her.

"Nonsense. You did your duty, and you should be rewarded." He was not blind to the fact that his son’s bond had split her world apart.

Isolde bowed then. Her chin dipped low, hiding the flicker of relief and sadness that crossed her face.

"I will make arrangements and you will be moved to a property in town in the morning. Everything you need will be at your disposal. And again, I am sorry,"

"There really isn’t anything great about being a royal concubine. I’m not going to miss it."

Lucivar raised a brow, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Please don’t tell my concubines."

Isolde’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time that night, a small spark breaking through the heaviness. "My lips are sealed," she said.

******

"Your highness, Isolde is on her way out of the castle," Leora reported the next morning.

"Really?" Luna’s brows lifted. Really? Just like that? Honestly, Luna hadn’t thought it would be that easy. Since she had set foot in Blood City, nothing had been easy.

"Yes. Lord Lucivar’s butler is currently about to escort her out," Leora confirmed.

But Luna wasn’t relieved. A sharp pang of guilt twisted through her chest. It cut deeper because she knew—knew she was treating Isolde unfairly, knew that the girl had only ever done what she was commanded. But fairness was a luxury Luna couldn’t afford. Her world was built on survival, on claiming what was hers. She would not lose Damien.

"Would you please check in with the temple priest to schedule the date of the heir’s ceremony?" Luna told Leora.

"Yes, your highness." Leora bowed quickly, her slim figure melting back into the shadows of the hallway.

Luna rose from her seat. She shouldn’t have cared about Isolde. The girl had played her part, and fate—damned, cruel fate—had tangled her into Luna’s marriage bed. And yet... gratitude clawed through her pride. Without Isolde, Damien would be ashes. His mark on her neck had anchored him to life. That was undeniable.

The courtyard outside the concubines’ quarters was alive with motion. Servants scurried carrying bags. Luna’s gaze swept the scene until she found her. Isolde stood aside, pale hair braided tight.

The world stilled when Luna stepped forward. Every servant bowed low. She walked directly to Isolde, who lowered her head further, refusing eye contact, as if the queen’s gaze might burn.

"Your highness," Isolde murmured.

Luna studied her. The curve of her jaw, the unblemished line of her throat where Damien’s mark was. "Where will you go?"

Isolde’s lips trembled before she answered, still staring at the ground. "Lord Lucivar made arrangements for me at the city boundary."

Luna exhaled through her nose. Good. The city boundary was far from the castle.

"I wanted to say you should take care of yourself. Whatever you need, you can send a message to me and I will do my best to help."

"There is no use pretending to care, your highness." Isolde’s reply was carefully whispered, loud enougn for only the queen to hear. She lifted her chin at last, daring to meet the queen’s gaze. Her eyes, once meek, now burned. "You royals have always been privileged and spoiled. All you do is take and take until we have nothing else to give."

For a beat, Luna’s thoughts halted, stunned at the audacity. Then her mind caught up, tumbling into a storm. How dare she? Her body heated, rage bleeding into the place where gratitude had lived moments before.

"I am not Seliora, your highness. I refuse to go down so easily. This exit is only temporary. I will come back..." her lips curved into the faintest, most dangerous smile, "...and I will take it all."

Luna’s vision blurred red, fury boiling up so hot she swore she could hear her pulse hammering in her ears. The bitch! Her instincts roared. Every ounce of restraint, every carefully schooled queenly lesson evaporated. She moved. Her hand drew back and came down hard against Isolde’s cheek.

The sharp crack echoed across the courtyard. Servants flinched, heads snapping lower, as if they could disappear into the ground. Isolde staggered under the force, her braid slipping against her shoulder. Her lips parted, a faint gasp leaving her throat.

"How dare you?" The queen’s chest rose and fell sharply

"Your Majesty?"

Luna’s head whipped around at the deep timbre of Lucivar’s voice. He stood just behind her.

Isolde, still reeling, kept her palm pressed against her cheek, her head lowered. To anyone else watching, it was the picture of cruelty: the queen towering, the rival bruised. And that was the problem. No one had heard Isolde’s venom but Luna. They had all seen the slap.

Luna lifted her chin, forcing her spine straight. She told herself she owed no one an explanation. She was queen, dammit. Her gaze flicked to Isolde one last time, the words perched on her tongue: you are not even half the woman Seliora was. But she swallowed them. They both knew it was a lie. Isolde had the one thing Seliora never did—Damien’s mark.

Lucivar’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a hard line. She turned sharply and walked away. She didn’t look back.

Lucivar let out a heavy sigh, his broad shoulders sinking just slightly. His gaze lingered on Luna’s retreating figure, then slid back to the young woman still clutching her cheek. Well... thank the goddess she was leaving the castle. Whatever storms her presence stirred, it would soon be over.

"Are you okay?" Lucivar asked finally.

"Of course, my lord." Isolde’s reply was smooth.

Lucivar studied her carefully. "What happened?"

"It’s nothing, my lord." Her smile widened, sweet as poisoned honey. "You need to understand the queen. The sight of me isn’t really easy... I better get going."

Lucivar gave a final nod. "Take care of yourself, Isolde."

"Of course, my lord," Isolde replied. She climbed into the car, Lucivar’s butler already standing by to escort her. Before the door closed, she allowed herself one last glance at the Castles. Her lips curled into a smile that was venomous. I’ll be back. And when I do, they’ll all remember my name.

*****

By the time Damien concluded his duties at the Royal Empire—he was looking forward to see his wife. It was always the best part of his day.

The moment he entered the castle. He stilled, just as he always did, tuning himself to the most important rhythm in the world—the thrum of his queen’s heartbeat. Always, it was his compass. But silence greeted him..

His steps grew sharper. He intercepted a young maid.

She bowed quickly. "Your Majesty."

"Where’s the queen?"

"On the top balcony."

He changed direction to the top floor and found her there—perched above the world on the highest balcony, the city sprawling beneath. She stood with her back to him, the night wind teasing strands of her dark hair.

(I got a massage chair from Ann Harper. Thank you so much. Who is nice enough to gift me my first car or dragon? Raise your hands!)

Oh and congratulations! You have finally met the one who will be Luna and Damien’s final test. fasten your seat belts.