The Vampire's Luna

"My only shot was Morvakar," he murmured. "He was my lucky charm." The chuckle that escaped him was low.

"Then get him!" Isolde snapped. She had moved closer without thinking.

"He is in a place I cannot reach at the moment." Damien's eyes flickered downward. "He lost his powers saving the prince, went into purgatory to get them back. My point is…" he inhaled sharply through his nose. "Whatever happens. I'm sorry. You are my one true mate and I am sorry I didn't wait for you."

Tears welled in Isolde's eyes and then spilled down her cheeks. She'd rehearsed a thousand speeches to give him if she ever got the chance, but not this. Not the sound of her fated mate saying goodbye. "When does the war begin?" she asked.

"Tomorrow night. So…take care of yourself. Councilman Richard will see to it you are properly cared for." He paused. "And make sure Magnus and our child grow up as the best of siblings."

Isolde's throat worked as she swallowed. No way, she thought. Her fingers drifted to her stomach unconsciously. Of course, she prayed for a boy who would be fit for the throne. Once Luna was out of the picture, Magnus would be next. And her child would be the crowned prince. But first, her mate could not die.

Damien watched her with the cool stillness of a predator. This was the woman fate had chosen for him?

"Goodbye, Isolde," Damien said at last. He turned to leave.

"Your Highness!" Isolde called after him. Damien paused mid-stride, jaw tightening, then slowly turned his head. Before he could speak, Isolde threw herself into his arms. Her body pressed to his, trembling with fear. Her arms wound around his waist.

Damien's arms hovered awkwardly at his sides before one finally rose, stiff, barely brushing her back. He stood still as a statue, his body hard and unyielding. His mind screamed a single command. Think of Luna. Think only of Luna.

He forced images of his queen into his thoughts: Luna's fire, Luna's laughter that could undo him in ways no blade ever could. Don't give in, Damien. Don't give in.

"I have to prepare for war, Isolde." His gaze met hers.

"Of course," Isolde whispered, lowering her eyes, hiding the sting of rejection behind practiced grace. She released him slowly, hands trailing from his chest. Damien gave her a small smile. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the building.

He was leaving behind the pretender the goddess had forced upon him and heading toward the woman fate had chosen against the goddess's will. Toward his queen. Toward Luna.

By the time Damien reached his own castle, he could already feel the coil of tension inside him. As he crossed the threshold, he pulled at the ties of his shirt, ripping the fabric over his head with impatient hands. The scent of Isolde still clung faintly to his skin. He would not let Luna smell it and mistake it for betrayal. No.

He would not give her reason to think he'd surrendered to the bond he despised.

Luna was waiting for him. She sat perched on the sofa in the living room, regal even in her rest.

The moment she saw him, she rose gracefully to her feet. She froze when she noticed him stripping.

"What…what are you doing?" Luna asked.

Damien's lips curved into a dry, humorless smile. "Taking off my clothes before you blow a gasket once you smell her on me."

Luna gave a small laugh. Her hands clenched at her sides as she watched him strip down to nothing but his shorts. He moved toward her slowly, the predator's prowl that always set her blood alight, until he was standing close enough.

Then, without another word, Damien bent and captured her mouth in a deep kiss. His hands slid up her arms to cup her face, thumbs stroking along her jaw.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured against her lips. "I'm really sorry."

Luna's arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him, nails grazing the back of his shoulders. Her eyes fluttered closed as she kissed him back. "No… I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have trusted you."

Damien pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, their breath mingling. "I needed you angry. Angry enough to be convincing. But goddess…" He gave a short, breathless laugh, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Was that a show."

Luna smirked despite the ache in her chest. "They bought it, right?"

"Oh yes," Damien said, leaning back, his grin sharp and wolfish even on a vampire. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"With Kyllian and the werewolf army at our borders, this should be over soon. You've no idea what kind of chaos you unleashed in that chamber. They think you've turned feral. How did you know?"

"I didn't know until I started listening to what you didn't say," Luna admitted. "I've been watching your eyes. The things you held back were louder than the things you spoke."

Damien exhaled through his nose, his thumb tracing slow circles into her hipbone. "Oh, my goddess," he murmured. "You… you are the best thing I have been blessed with." His lips grazed the corner of her mouth as he spoke.

Her heart clenched at the earnestness in his tone. "When will this end?" she asked.

"I've got scouts on the concubines' building right now," Damien explained.

"If she moves, they tail her. I'm hoping she will not want me to die and run to whoever she thinks can help me win the war. When she runs, she'll lead us straight to the sorcerer. Everything is in the works to catch him uncloaked. This farce ends the moment she makes her move."

Luna nodded her head once. "I am going to kill her," she whispered. "I don't care how much it will hurt you. She is a dead woman." Her hands trembled slightly as she touched Damien's chest.