Behind her, there was the soft sound of fabric rustling. Damien was undressing. Her breath caught when she realized the reality of what was about to happen. Then the bed dipped under his weight as he climbed in beside her, the heat of his body radiating even though he kept a careful inch between them.
Damien stared at her back, the pale line of her shoulder, the fragile curve of her waist. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, almost frustrated. He felt like a boy again. For the first time in centuries, he didn’t know what to do. His body remembered the mechanics; his mind recoiled from them. He reached out instinctively, then pulled his hand back before he touched her.
He tried to summon desire, to focus on her beauty. And she was beautiful. Isolde’s form was elegant, her scent sweet, her skin glowing. Any man would have been undone by her. But when Damien closed his eyes, all he saw was Luna. Luna’s laugh. Luna’s fire. Luna’s voice calling his name in the dark. The ache of wanting her hollowed him out, leaving nothing but emptiness for anyone else.
He sighed, long and heavy, and lay flat on his back beside Isolde. How ridiculous is this? he thought bitterly. For centuries I took lovers without thought, thousands of women sharing my bed for pleasure, for release, for nothing more than distraction. And now, when I need to perform the simplest of acts, I falter like a fool.
The corner of his mouth curved in a humorless smile. Luna had undone him in ways no one else ever could. She had rewritten him, reset everything he thought he was. One look from her could unmake centuries of indifference.
Minutes passed, long and suffocating, as Isolde remained on her side, her face turned firmly away from him. She listened to his breathing, steady but sharp-edged, every rise and fall of his chest reminding her that he wasn’t asleep—he was avoiding. The silence became unbearable. Finally, she swallowed her fear and decided to broach an idea.
"Your highness?" she whispered.
"I told you not to speak," Damien replied instantly. The command cut through her, sharp as a blade.
The sting of his rejection only fueled a reckless sort of courage. She rolled onto her back, eyes flashing in the dim light. "At some point, we have to leave this room," she said softly but firmly. "But if I may try something—something that might help—"
There was a long pause. His jaw clenched, his profile hard against the shadows. Then finally, with a resigned sigh, Damien said, "Fine."
Carefully, she rose from the bed, her bare feet brushing floor. She walked across the room to where her scarf lay draped over a chair, delicate but strong enough for her purpose. Her fingers curled around it, her mind racing. Every step back toward him felt like walking into a storm she knew could destroy her, but she couldn’t turn away. She had been cast aside her entire life; she refused to be invisible now.
When she reached his side of the bed, she hesitated, just long enough to look at him. He was lying there in nothing but his trousers, broad chest rising and falling with the steady control of a man determined to remain unmoved. His gaze lifted to hers.
She thought bitterly of the Blood Goddess, that cruel deity who had mocked her from birth. Made her inconsequential, powerless, a vessel for others’ will. Humiliated her, abused her, broke her—and then bound her to this. To a man whose heart already belonged to another, whose love burned so brightly it left no space for her. A cosmic joke, a divine cruelty.
Her throat tightened, but her hands did not falter. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted the scarf and reached toward his face.
The moment her fingers brushed his skin, they both reacted. A spark shot through the bond, sharp and electric, forcing a shiver through her body. Damien inhaled sharply, his control slipping just for an instant. The contact was intoxicating.
She looped the scarf carefully over his eyes, tying it at the back of his head. His lips parted, his chest expanding with a deeper breath than before. The blindfold stole his sight but sharpened everything else—the bond’s hum, the scent of her skin, the fragile determination in her trembling hands.
She wanted him. Even if he belonged to another. Even if he never looked at her with the same heat he reserved for Luna. Even if her presence disgusted him. The cruel truth didn’t matter. What mattered was that in this moment, with the scarf binding his sight and the bond thrumming between them, he was hers.
And she would take whatever scraps the Goddess allowed her, even if it meant burning for them afterward.
Just as Isolde was about to withdraw her trembling hand from his face, Damien’s fingers shot up, closing firmly around her wrist. The sudden grip stole her breath, and sparks of the mate-bond flared like wildfire between their skin, racing up her arm until her whole body shuddered with heat. His hand was steady. Slowly, he drew her hand down to rest against his chest.
Her lips parted. Her fingers trembled, but she let them explore the ridges of his chest, tracing the lines of hard muscle.
Encouraged, Isolde let her hand drift lower. The blindfold had done what she hoped—it stripped away his sharp, unforgiving gaze and left him vulnerable, a man ruled only by instinct. She brushed her fingers along the ridges of his abdomen, lower still until she found him stirring. She swallowed hard, her cheeks burning, but her hand moved with boldness she didn’t feel. She stroked him gently, coaxing him to hardness, each twitch and pulse beneath her palm sending fire through her veins.
A low, guttural sound rumbled in Damien’s chest. It was enough. She tugged his trousers down, freeing him completely. He was hard, heavy, achingly ready.
Before she could lose her courage, Isolde stood and reached for the fastenings of her gown. She let it fall in a heap to the floor, stripping away everything until there was nothing left between them. She hovered for a moment, just long enough to see his chest rise sharply beneath her, and then she guided him inside her in one steady motion, sinking down until he filled her to the hilt.
(This Chapter was very painful to write. I have gotten so immersed in the love story of Damien and Luna. but well, gotta follow the plot)