The Vampire's Luna

Her hair fell in polished waves down her shoulders, her lips painted the same daring red as her dress, and around her throat, a delicate choker hugged her. Tonight, she wasn’t a forgotten maid or a pawn in someone else’s scheme.

Tonight, she was a woman who demanded to be seen. She planned on making a statement, on being remembered. And if she was lucky, she planned on haunting the thoughts of her mate.

When she reached the cordoned section of the square, she slowed her steps. The guards blocked her path at first, but Isolde had come prepared. With a flourish, she slipped Lord Lucivar’s shield seal from her purse and held it up between two manicured fingers.

The guards straightened immediately, before stepping aside. Isolde’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. Access granted.

Her gaze swept over the long table of nobles. She took in the setting.

She spotted Damien, seated beside his queen. The sight of him made her breath falter. He was devastating as ever. A laugh curved his lips. He leaned close to Luna, his wife, their heads nearly touching, a picture of unity. But then his eyes lifted.

Their gazes collided. Damien’s laugh died mid-sound, the conversation with his wife cut short without his awareness. Isolde let the moment linger—three seconds, no more—before she dropped her eyes and kept walking.

Damien noticed. Of course he did. He saw her and his body remembered. The dip of her neckline plunged so daringly it teased at the edges of memory. He forced himself to look away, to focus on his queen.

But the damage was done. Isolde had made her entrance. And Damien, for all his iron will and the warmth of his queen’s hand in his, could not fight the temptation.

He felt the need to go to her, to... to what? To take her hand? To kiss her? To fuck her? Damien clenched his jaw and dragged his gaze back to Luna, to the only woman who had ever truly claimed his heart.

Her lips were pressed into a thin, unreadable line, and for a terrible second, he feared he had hurt her again.

"I’m sorry," he said.

"Stop apologising, Damien. I promised you we would fight this together. I will always do that." Then, as if she could read the torment in his soul, she offered him a smile.

"I know," he murmured. "But when I see the hurt in your eyes, I am sorry that I put it there."

Luna reached for his hand. "Then I should be the one to grow some balls. You did what you did for me and our son. And I am eternally grateful that you did. We will be fine."

"You want to dance with me?" he asked suddenly, a small grin tugging his lips.

"Of course." Luna’s smile bloomed brighter now, easing the storm in his chest. She slid her hand into his, letting him pull her to her feet.

Damien led her down from the dais, the entire square shifting its attention to watch their sovereigns. Music swelled, violins weaving through the air.

Their bodies molded together as the first notes of the waltz began. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him, while her hand rested lightly on his chest. The heat of her body soaked into his.

"The first time I saw you," Damien said, "you were in your wolf form. Fending off two rogue vampires in the woods." He twirled her gently, then pulled her back into the cage of his arms. "The first thing I thought was—that’s one incredible wolf. Before I even touched you, I wanted you."

Luna chuckled, resting her head against his shoulder as they swayed.

"Before the mate bond sprung into existence, you were already a vision I wasn’t going to forget easily. Moonlight, even if the fates hadn’t tied us, I still would have chased you."

"I wish I had truly seen you in that moment," Luna whispered. Her eyes glistened. "I wasted so much time thinking about what was right for everyone else. For my people, for my parents, for the throne. I thought sacrifice was love, and I thought restraint was duty.

When all along, I should have put every ounce of my energy into loving you." Her fingers pressed tighter against his chest, as if she feared he might drift away should she let go.

Damien’s heart lurched at her words. The regret etched in her tone was a dagger, yet it also carried the sweetness of her truth. "You love me now," he said, offering her the soft smile he reserved only for her.

He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if to seal her confession into his very skin. "That’s all that matters."

While the king and queen glided, the crowd awed by their unity, another pair of eyes burned with envy.

Lord Lucivar turned sharply when he noticed a familiar figure perched at the edge of the gathering. His eyes narrowed into suspicion. Isolde sat elegantly, pretending to belong among the masses. Her gown clung to her, shimmering with every subtle shift of her body.

She wanted to be seen. She wanted to be remembered. Lucivar knew the signs.

"What are you doing here?" Lucivar asked as he strode over. His gaze flickered over her deliberately.

"I just wanted to come celebrate the prince with the rest of the city."

Lucivar, seasoned in the dangerous dance of women and power, was no fool. He had lived long enough to know when a woman’s heartache turned into hunger. "Cut the crap, Isolde." He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"I warned you that the King was off-limits. That hasn’t changed and it will not change. You test fire that will burn you alive."

Isolde’s lashes fluttered, feigning submission. "My Lord, I am sorry if I have offended you. Truly. I just... I wanted to..."

"You wanted to remind him you exist. You wanted to parade yourself before the queen. Careful, Isolde." his eyes flicked briefly toward Damien, who was holding Luna as if she were made of moonlight and fire.