The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 117: Katrina And The Waves - Walking On Sunshine

Chapter 117: Katrina And The Waves - Walking On Sunshine

"Do I detect a swagger in your step?" King Luciver drawled, narrowing his eyes as his son approached. There was a bounce to Damien’s walk, a slight lift in his shoulders, and—most suspicious of all—a stupid grin plastered across his face.

Damien’s eyes were practically dancing, and his lips looked glued in place, stretched wide with uncontainable joy.

"I’m getting married," Damien announced, stopping just short of the throne dais

Luciver stared at him.

Then sighed. Loudly.

"Oh fuck."

Damien blinked, startled. "Oookay... that’s not the reaction I was expecting."

"I’m sorry. I am happy for you," Luciver corrected quickly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if warding off a migraine. "You guys finally fixed things—it’s good news."

Damien narrowed his eyes. "But?"

There was always a but.

Every silver lining in his life came with a gray cloud in tow.

Luciver gave him a look that said you know how this goes. "The council..."

Damien sighed, his hands dropping to his hips. "What has me getting married got to do with the council?"

Luciver rose from his throne, and walked toward his son. The burden of ruling, of balancing tradition and personal desires were heavy in his gait. "They have...reservations about a hybrid heir."

Damien let out a laugh, a little wounded around the edges. "Of course they do. Of course. Does anyone give a shit about what makes me happy? I guess not."

His father didn’t speak for a moment. Just looked at him.

"They’re not against you marrying the werewolf princess," Luciver said slowly, carefully choosing each word. "They just want a Trueblood heir before any arrangements of marriage can begin."

"You’re joking."

"Think about the future," Luciver advised.

Damien rubbed a hand down his face and dropped into the armchair with a sigh that sounded older than he looked. "When you’re gone," Luciver continued, pacing now, "what happens to the throne? Gabriel will fight relentlessly for it."

"You need a Trueblood heir," Luciver said bluntly.

Damien groaned and slumped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So what do I do?" fr\(e)ew(e)b.(n)o (v)(e)l.com

Luciver turned to the window. He took a breath, then said, "Let me speak with the princess. She will understand."

"No." Damien sat up, instantly alert. "Not yet. She’s still being giddy about the engagement."

Luciver raised a skeptical brow. "Giddy? That’s not a word I ever expected to hear about Luna."

"You didn’t see her this morning. She was humming. Even at work." Damien stood now, trying to steady the nerves fluttering in his chest. "Which reminds me. I need Mother’s ring."

Luciver turned slowly, as if measuring his son’s resolve. "You’re really going to marry this girl without telling her how long you have to live? Without telling her you’re going to die?"

Damien looked away. The truth weighed heavy on his tongue, but he couldn’t say it—not yet. He didn’t want to see her break. Not while she was still shining.

"I will," he said finally. "Just... not yet. I don’t want to cast a shadow over what we have now."

Luciver studied him for a long time before silently walking to the safe embedded in the wall. His fingers moved with practiced ease as he spun the dials, then clicked the lock open. He withdrew a small velvet box.

"Here." He handed it to Damien.

"I hope this doesn’t blow up in your face though," Luciver said quietly.

"Me too," Damien replied, clutching the ring box tightly in his palm.

Luciver nodded solemnly. Then, just as Damien was about to turn and leave, the king cocked his head and added, "One question though."

Damien paused at the door. "What?"

"How was the sex?"

"...Seriously?"

Luciver shrugged, all royal composure forgotten. "I know when someone walks in looking like they’ve been thoroughly ravished."

Damien made a face. "Goddess...I can’t believe you just asked me that."

"I am intrigued. I have never been with a werewolf before."

Damien slowly turned to glare at his father, his patience already worn thin. "I am not having this conversation with you."

Luciver’s grin stretched wide, revealing just a hint of fang. "You are no fun."

"And you forget you’re over a thousand years old," Damien muttered, exasperated.

Luciver shrugged as if immortality absolved him of all filters or shame. "Exactly. I’ve lived long enough to know that the forbidden ones always make for the most delicious affairs. A vampire prince and a wolf princess? I smell heat."

Damien made a strangled sound and ran a hand through his hair. "I’m leaving now before this conversation gets even worse."

***** \n(o)v.e\l.com

"My Lady?"

Seliora didn’t respond.

"My lady?" her maid, Natasha, called again.

Seliora lay curled on her side in a tight fetal position, draped in her softest sheets. The midday sun filtered through the heavy drapes, but it did nothing to warm her chilled heart. Her face was pale and hollow, her eyes ringed red from crying.

She still couldn’t believe she wasn’t pregnant.

That week had been perfect—at least in her head. She’d convinced herself that their night together, multiple times over, meant something. That surely the gods had blessed her womb with an heir. That her body, finally, had proven her worth.

But Mira’s words had shattered it all.

"I’m sorry, my lady. You’re not pregnant."

Her world had come crashing down.

Natasha shifted uneasily at the edge of the bed. "The prince still isn’t in his castle yet."

Seliora finally stirred. She pushed herself up slowly, her hair tumbling in loose waves down her back, her robe slipping slightly off one shoulder. "Is he still with her?"

"Yes," Natasha said, cautiously.

Seliora’s fingers clenched the bedding. "It’s been a week."

"I know, my lady."

Seliora stared at nothing in particular, her face tight with fury and desperation. She had always known the werewolf princess was a threat, but now—now it felt like she was losing everything. Damien’s attention, the court, even the child she thought would solidify her place—it was all slipping through her fingers.

"If I may..." Natasha began. "The palace maids working in her quarters say... they may be expecting a hybrid heir shortly."