"Luna..." he whispered hoarsely as she broke the kiss and rose above him, her legs straddling his hips. There was a wild fire in her eyes. Her hair was wet and wild around her shoulders, her lips swollen from kissing, her body glistening with leftover droplets from the shower.
That look in her eyes—it was dangerous. Determined. It made him want to laugh and groan all at once. What was she going to do? Ride him until he agreed to live forever?
He chuckled to himself, a sound both strained and amused. "You know, if this is your idea of a negotiation tactic, I might surrender early."
She didn’t speak. She simply moved, taking control. He sucked in a breath, every nerve ending set on fire. She wasn’t just using him—she was pouring herself into him, every touch layered with silent grief and a desperate kind of love.
Damien grunted, trying to reach for her hips but Luna caught his wrists midair and pressed them together in front of her chest.
And gods help him, he let her. He let her take whatever she needed, however she needed it.
But as her pace increased, and the intensity between them escalated, Damien’s frustration grew. The pleasure was maddening, and the tension in his arms, being restrained, added another layer to the chaos already unfurling in his body. He flexed his fingers, tried again to move—only to feel her press his hands down again, her gaze fierce and unrelenting.
"I’m here," he whispered. "I’m still here."
"Luna..." he gasped as she rolled down onto him, her body tight and hot, a perfect and maddening fit.
"Say you’ll stay," she demanded. Her body moved against his.
"I will," he rasped, caught in the overwhelming pleasure of her, of this moment.
"You’ll find her." She stared into his eye.
"No," he said, firm and breathless. Not even the heat curling in his belly, the way her body took him in so greedily, could change his mind. "No."
Her expression flickered with anguish, and before he could prepare himself, she clenched her core tight around him—so tight he choked on his next breath.
"Fuck! Luna!" he growled, and with a sudden burst of energy, snatched his hands free from her grip and locked them around her hips, halting her movement. "I cannot! How do you want me to betray you like that?"
Her tears came fast then, silent and hot, her shoulders shaking as the sobs broke free.
Damien sat up, pressing her to his chest. Her hair clung to his skin, and he held her tightly, as if his embrace could shield her from the grief ripping her apart.
"Morvakar will find another way," he whispered, trying to soothe her, trying to believe it himself. Carefully, he eased her down into the bed. As he shifted, his length slipped out of her gently, leaving a faint emptiness behind.
But Luna grabbed him by the wrist again. "No, fuck me, Damien. If you are dying, then don’t waste a single second holding back from me."
The way she said it—so honest, so broken—it undid him. .com
Without a word, he kissed her. This kiss was softer, sadder. It was goodbye and I love you and please don’t go, all in one breath. And then he slid into her again, slow and deep, drawing a trembling sigh from her lips.
He moved with care this time. His hands roamed her back, her thighs, her hair—memorizing her.
"Luna..." he breathed against her skin, again and again.
Their bodies rocked in rhythm, the pain and pleasure indistinguishable now. Every roll of his hips whispered love, regret, defiance. And Luna clung to him with the same intensity, her nails digging into his shoulders as if to mark him for eternity.
The storm built slowly.
When release finally came, it was deep and devastating. A tremble. A soft gasp. The quiet collapse of two souls holding each other in the dark.
They shattered together, sharing their climax and their grief in one impossible moment. And when it was over, Luna curled into Damien’s chest, her tears mixing with sweat and silence.
He stroked her back slowly, his breath still unsteady. "I’m here," he murmured. "Right here."
But neither of them said what they feared most:
That ’here’ may not be forever.
The heavy doors to the throne room opened to admit Damien and Luna.
Luciver rose from his dark throne the moment he saw them, his sharp eyes softening at the sight of Luna. For all his reputation as a fearsome king and strategist, he opened his arms and wrapped her in a hug so tight, it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
"I am so sorry about your father," he said. His hands gripped her back protectively.
Luna nodded, swallowing hard. She allowed herself to stay in his embrace for just a few seconds more, savoring the comfort that oddly reminded her of her father. She hadn’t expected to cry again, not here. But Luciver, somehow, understood the loss.
Then, Luciver turned to his son and clapped him on the shoulder. "I hear you were wounded."
"Yes," Damien answered. "A certain strange man patched me up though."
They both knew who he was talking about. He didn’t dare say Morvakar’s name aloud here.
Luciver’s lips twitched knowingly. "I see," he said with a subtle nod that said say no more.
"We still don’t know where these vampires came from."
"They are rogue vampires," Damien began, stepping forward. "Feral, thirsty—but they had someone coordinating them. That’s the dangerous part. They weren’t just hungry. They had tactics."
Luciver’s eyes narrowed. "He was there?"
"Yes," Damien said. "Hidden. I never saw him. I only heard his call." He paused and glanced at Luna beside him. "A sound that commanded them."
"Then someone is hiding them. Under our noses. Who would dare?"
Damien took a breath. "That’s the question I’ve been asking myself since the battle. At first, we assumed they were seeking land. Remember the early sightings? Which is why I warned King Magnus months ago."