The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 107: Taylor Swift - Back To December

Chapter 107: Taylor Swift - Back To December

Damien’s mark.

It had saved her life.

And destroyed everything else.

It had pulled her from her world and tied her to his, made her a pariah among her own people.

After breakfast, Luna stood from her half-eaten plate with new resolve. She had to see him.

"I’m going to see the prince," she informed the guards stationed at the building’s entrance.

"Yes, princess," one of them nodded.

King Lucivar had spared no effort making her feel secure and comfortable. The house was a marvel of elegance. She had everything she needed. Everything but him.

Once she completed the ritual at the High Temple, she would begin her duties as royal envoy. She just needed Damien to understand that she wasn’t running away. She was preparing for them.

It was simple. Wasn’t it?

Then why did it feel like she had already lost him?

Her steps quickened.

A few minutes later, she arrived at the prince’s castle. The guards greeted her with familiar nods, not even bothering to question her presence. Of course not. She was his, wasn’t she?

She hadn’t even crossed the threshold before the scent hit her.

Unmistakable. Pungent and potent and... recent.

She stopped. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

She took another step in, fighting the heat blooming in her cheeks. fre ewe bnove l.com

Then she saw her Seliora.

Stepping out of the inner chamber, barefoot, tousled, and wearing his shirt.

"Princess! Good morning. What brings you by?" Seliora chirped with sugary sweetness.

Luna stood in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" she asked, even though the answer had already twisted itself into her stomach.

"What do you mean by that? I have every right to be here. I am the royal concubine. It’s you who never had any right here, Princess. Not in this castle, not in this city."

Luna’s face stayed regal. She didn’t answer. Instead, she strode forward and barged past Seliora.

Seliora’s smug smile barely faltered. "He’s not in there," she called after her, voice taunting.

But Luna didn’t stop. She stormed through the rooms—the bedroom, the study, even the kitchen, hoping—praying—that somehow this was all a mistake. Maybe Damien had just...let Seliora crash on the couch.

But the sheets in his bed were soaked in betrayal. Her skin crawled. Her heart screamed.

She checked upstairs, the servants’ quarters, even his private library. She clung to every shard of denial she could scavenge.

She found the head butler as she descended the stairs, the poor man nearly bumping into her.

"Where is the prince?" she demanded.

The butler bowed, ever polite. "He left as usual quite early this morning."

Luna gave a tight nod.

She returned downstairs, only to find Seliora splayed across the chaise lounge, legs elegantly crossed, holding a book, pretending to read.

As Luna passed her, Seliora spoke again. This time her words were dipped in poison.

"It would be best if you returned to where you came from. You may be mated to the prince, but he will always come back to what’s more important—his duty as the future heir of Blood City. You have no place here."

Luna stopped mid-stride, turned slowly, and faced her. Her fury pulsed just beneath her skin, thrumming. She stepped closer, her presence shadowing the smug concubine’s seat.

"He is only with you, Royal Concubine Seliora," Luna said through gritted teeth, "because I let him. I let him do his duty. Don’t sit on your high horse because you get one night a month with the prince. If I want him to never even touch a strand of your hair, he will not. So keep quiet and do your duty."

She turned on her heel and stormed out.

As she exited the building, she barked, "Get a car ready. I need to see the prince at the Royal Empire."

One of the guards jumped to action. "Yes, my lady."

Within minutes, she was inside the vehicle, her mind racing faster than the driver. Her hands trembled. Her fingers kept brushing her mark.

When they arrived, she bolted up the stairs of the Royal Empire, ignoring startled glances from staff and guards. Her pulse pounded louder with every step. She didn’t even knock. She threw open the door to his office—

And stopped cold.

"Damien!" she gasped.

The scene before her was not what she expected.

He was there.

Damien was even paler than usual, a ghost of himself sprawled on the cold marble floor of his office. His white shirt clung to his sweat-drenched body, his breathing ragged, his limbs limp.

"Damien!" Luna dropped to her knees beside him.

She grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him up with a grunt. "Come on!" she patted his cheek, gently at first, then firmer. "Wake up, Damien!"

He groaned, his lashes fluttering, and then his eyes opened. Barely. Slits of tired crimson. He winced. Even that slight movement looked like it took everything out of him.

"Luna?" Of all people...why did she always find him like this? Crumbling. Failing. Weak. The one person he wanted to protect from the truth was the one always dragging it out of the shadows.

"What happened?" she whispered, her hands still on his cheeks, thumb brushing away a smudge of sweat. Her eyes searched his face as if trying to will the pain away.

He attempted to sit up and failed once before trying again, slower this time. "It’s nothing," he muttered. "Just got lightheaded." He tried to smile, to muster his usual charm, but it came out crooked and pathetic. "Occupational hazard."

"Quit saying it’s nothing!" Luna snapped. "What is going on with you?"

He looked away from her. That subtle turn of the head was enough to make her chest ache. "Like I said," he murmured, "it’s nothing." A wall slammed down between them. "Why are you here, Luna? Is there something I can do for you?"

The shift in his tone hit her.

"I... I..." Her words faltered as she looked at him. "Nothing," she finally said, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "I just wanted to see you."