The Vampire's Luna

"Only a grown-up can feel the way I feel right now," he said quietly.

"How?" Luna asked innocently, a slow smile playing on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, daring him to elaborate.

Without a word, Damien pulled her hand lower, guiding it along the front of his pants, letting her feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Luna’s eyes widened in surprise. She yanked her hand away as if burned, cheeks blooming a rosy pink.

"Be nice," she warned, half-laughing, half-scolding, the lightness in her tone barely masking the heat spreading through her.

"I am always nice," Damien retorted smoothly, clearing his throat as if to regain some semblance of dignity. "But I think it’s better you run every time you feel that pull."

He paused. "I think it’s safer if you pull away from me because when you eventually give in to the bond—to what we both feel—that will be the day you conceive. So keep running, my Moonlight. Keep running."

The nickname made her blush deeper, her heart hammering in a way that made her want to deny everything, to brush off the weight of his words. She tried to deflect, cracking a joke to lighten the heat between them. "Yeah... like that’s how it works. Just fuck once and boom, it’s a baby."

But the joke fell flat. The intensity in Damien’s gaze was impossible to dismiss, and the truth lurking in his words sank in heavier than she wanted to admit.

"I’m very determined, Luna," he said. "I will fuck you in ways no one has ever thought before."

His words were bold, almost reckless, but full of a hunger that was as much about possession as it was about worship. "I will fuck your mind, your soul, your heart before I even begin to fuck your body."

The heat between them thickened, turning the air electric. Damien’s next words were almost a growl. "I will fuck you fast, slow, shallow, deep."

Luna’s breath hitched. There was no hiding from this anymore—not the mark, not the bond, not the overwhelming, undeniable pull of desire and fate wrapped around them both.

"Damien..."

Damien, reading the tension, offered a soft, almost crooked smile. "Don’t worry. I won’t touch you," he said, stepping back. "Don’t want to ruin your makeup."

Before either of them could recover the intimacy, the stiff, formal announcement from the entrance pierced the delicate bubble. "The Royal Concubine has arrived."

Luna’s heart sank. She hated that this interruption came from the one person who always seemed to cast a shadow over her moments with Damien. "What is she doing here?" Luna asked quietly. Why was she always the one whose presence complicated things?

The door opened, and Seliora entered. Black dress, black hat, black gloves—each piece perfectly chosen to accentuate her pale skin and delicate features. She looked breathtaking, almost regal in her dark elegance. Yet Damien’s eyes, the ones Luna was so desperately watching, barely flickered toward Seliora. His focus was all on Luna — his Moonlight — and that unshakable fact was a balm.

"I came to see if you were ready." Her words faltered as she took in Luna’s presence.

She cleared her throat, regaining composure. "I was of the opinion we would be going together."

Damien’s eyes flicked between the two women as he shrugged. "I invited Luna. She needs to get out more...But you can go... I’m sure Lord Bishop’s daughter will appreciate your presence."

Seliora’s smile tightened. "Uh... never mind. I wouldn’t want to steal the princess’s thunder."

Luna chuckled softly from behind Damien, the sound light but sharp. "You ain’t got what it takes, sugar," she teased, eyes gleaming with playful defiance.

Damien’s reaction was immediate and theatrical. "Okay! Enough of this! Okay?!" His hands flailed in the air. "Seliora... Luna is my mate... that will not change. She is here to stay. Luna... Seliora is my concubine. It sucks, but it is what it is. So... would you ladies please try to treat each other with some respect... please!!!" The last word came out like a desperate prayer, punctuated with a helpless glance at the ceiling, as if the universe itself might intervene and smooth the mess.

Seliora bowed slightly. Then she turned to leave, stepping away.

Luna, however, wasn’t done. She glared at Damien. The playful teasing was gone; now there was fire, a fierce insistence that she wouldn’t be sidelined or silenced. "Luna... come on. Please... don’t get mad," Damien said.

"Just let’s go," Luna snapped, shaking off the tension.

Damien threw up his hands in frustration, exasperation rolling off him. "What the fuck did I say to make you mad?!" he demanded, genuinely bewildered.

Luna’s words came fast, sharp, and soaked with every ounce of her indignation. "I am not your fucking concubine." She punctuated the phrase with a glare that could melt steel. "I do not bow to you. You have no right to speak to me in such a degrading way just because you were floored by her highness." The heat in her voice was fierce. "Get your shit together and do not involve me in your sexual squabbles."

Damien blinked, momentarily deflated, then blinked again. "Was I supposed to watch you two tear at each other?" he asked.

Damien sighed. "Look, this whole thing’s a mess, and frankly, I’m losing at every turn," he admitted. "But you... you’re my mate, and no concubine or politics is gonna change that. We’ll figure this out. Somehow."

"I can handle myself. This is not my first rodeo with her. I am a werewolf princess, goddamnit. No one... I mean no one puts me down." She squared her shoulders, the fire in her eyes daring anyone to challenge her. "I shove everyone in their places. Are we going or not?" she finished, then turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

There was a moment of silence where Damien just stared after her. "God, what did I sign up for?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his temple.

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