The Vampire's Luna

"When I get back,…I would like to take you on a date. I want to give love another shot—with you."

Mabel's breath caught. "Your highne…I mean…Kyllian," she whispered, tasting his name again. "Just…I don't know what to say." Her heart was hammering, but her eyes never left his.

He closed the last bit of distance between them, the heat of his body brushing hers without touching. "Just say you will go on a date with me."

"I will go on a date with you, Kyllian."

Kyllian gave her a small smile then bent his head to kiss her softly. He pulled away from her then and got into his car leaving Mabel really shocked. The werewolf alpha king just asked her…her on a date. The woman with the biggest baggage in the entire territory.

******

Eryk had made all the necessary arrangements, whispering in the right ears, paying off guards who would later swear they heard nothing. Damien didn't trust many, but Eryk was one of the few men who understood what loyalty meant. Tonight, loyalty would decide the future of kingdoms.

When Damien reached Talon's cell, the sight almost made him wince. Talon sat slumped against the wall, shirt torn, flesh littered with bruises, his lips split. Damien reached for the lock, twisting the key until the chains fell away with a dull clatter.

"So," Damien said, "while I am helping you escape, are you going to tell me what you told the queen?" He had seen her eyes blaze in that council hall today, and gods help him, he had wanted to take her right there on the throne.

Talon flexed his newly freed wrists, wincing at the raw welts, and managed a half-smile. "I only told her what my king needed me to do."

Damien arched a brow. "Hence, the performance for the council. I am not so sure though if the performance was for the council or for me."

Talon smirked faintly. "Fits your agenda, doesn't it?"

"Conveniently." Damien allowed himself a thin smile. They walked through the long hallway.

At last, Damien stopped at what appeared to be nothing more than a solid slab of stone. He pressed his hand against the right corner. With a groan, the wall shifted inward, revealing a narrow passage.

"Go down, straight down," Damien instructed. "Eryk will sneak you to the boundary where your king waits." He paused. "Get some rest," he added. "You've earned it. Tell Kyllian I said thank you."

Talon nodded once before he hurried off into the darkened passage. His footsteps echoed for only a few seconds before fading into silence. Damien lingered for a moment, staring at the wall. He shut the wall carefully, brushing away traces of the mechanism, and turned back toward the main prison corridors. His strides were confident. He needed the guards to see only their king leaving alone, no suspicion trailing after him.

When he stepped out into the night air, he inhaled deeply, forcing the scent of damp stone and rusted iron out of his lungs. Now for the second act. His lips twisted into a humorless smile. "Time to put on a show," he muttered under his breath.

The Royal Concubines' building loomed ahead. He walked for a bit until he reached it. The porch light illuminated Natasha who straightened sharply at the sight of him. She dipped into a low bow.

"Good evening, your highness."

"Inform Isolde I'm here. She can meet me out here."

"Of course, your highness." Natasha hurried inside.

Damien scanned the area casually, though his gaze flicked with precision—towards the shadows where his scouts had been instructed to position themselves. They were all in place, watching, waiting. Everything about this evening was choreographed.

Natasha returned swiftly, bowing again. "She was asleep. She is still weak from the assault. If you would go in, your highness."

She wanted him inside, wanted to trap him and he was going to let her. "Perfect," he murmured with a smile that never reached his eyes.

He strode down the hallway.

He pushed open the bedroom door, and the sight of Isolde greeted him. At once, she dropped into a bow and curtsey beside the bed, her frail form trembling.

"Your highness. I wasn't expecting you."

Damien studied her for a long moment, letting silence stretch until it pressed on her shoulders. The act demanded control, demanded possession, even if his chest tightened with an ache he didn't want to name.

"No," he said at last. He stepped further into the room. "But I thought to see you… one more time."

Isolde's head snapped up at his words. Her hands trembled at her sides. "One more time?" she whispered at last. "Are you sending me away again?" Her eyes glistened.

Damien exhaled slowly through his nose. "No," he said. "I'm afraid…uhm…The queen has finally gone over the deep end. She's sparked a war with the werewolf kingdom because she doesn't want to be held accountable for her actions against you."

Isolde's fingers tightened around her gown. "Oh goddess…" she breathed, her composure fracturing. "I wish I never said anything." She dared to step closer, a fragile bird approaching a predator. Her eyes flickered up to his, searching for some hint of reassurance beneath the king's mask.

"Alpha King Kyllian is no ordinary werewolf," he said. "He has beaten me once before," he continued, "and now, with this war, it means I will have to face him to the death, Isolde. And I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry—that things turned out the way they did. And that you would…uhm…tell my child about me."

Isolde's breath hitched, and her hand rose halfway as if to touch him before she caught herself. "But your highness…" She tried again, louder, more desperate. "You have to come back. You are the Vampire King. You cannot die. If you die, what happens to me?" Her eyes flooded now, dark lashes wet as she stared at him. "I didn't even get to be with you," she whispered, and the confession burned her tongue. "I cannot…I cannot lose you. Your highness!"