The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 192: I Don’t Have Time

Chapter 192: I Don’t Have Time

(Everyone says Damien stood out in the previous Chapter, now i am feeling guilty with whats coming)

"Doctor Thessa said he is growing quicker."

There was wonder in her tone.

Damien moved above her. Every shift of his body spoke volumes—how deeply he cherished her, how he wanted to cradle her rather than possess her. With grace, he settled his weight so that not a single pound pressed against her growing stomach.

Then his mouth found hers again, and the kiss was deep, full of longing and gratitude. His fingers slipped between her thighs, and she gasped against his mouth as he touched her, his hand moving with precision, seeking the soft places he knew best, drawing her closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

Then, without a word, Damien laid beside her on the bed. He shed the last of his clothes—revealing the body she loved, the body she feared she’d lose—and positioned himself behind her. It was instinctive now, this careful choreography of making love while protecting the child between them. This was the position Doctor Thessa approved of, one of the few left that didn’t risk straining Luna or the fragile life inside her.

His hand slid beneath her, cupping one breast for balance and closeness. The feel of him entering her from behind always stirred something primal inside her. Her breath hitched as he moved.

Luna reached back, her hand finding his thigh, her nails pressing in for anchorage as her body responded to his. Every thrust sent pleasure spiraling up her spine, his cock brushing that place inside her that shattered her composure. She tried to hold on, to be strong, to not fall apart—but the pleasure was unbearable in its sweetness.

And just when her climax began to unfurl, the tears came.

Sobs tore from her chest as wave after wave of emotion collided with the pleasure. It was everything—her love for him, her desperation, her helplessness in the face of his quiet self-sacrifice. Her body trembled as she sobbed into the pillow, and still, her husband moved inside her.

If only he’d stop being a noble fool. If only he’d choose to live. Just to hold her, to love her, to fuck her like this for the rest of their lives.

That was all she wanted.

Damien felt her sobs, the way her body trembled, the crushing wave of love and grief crashing through her heart. It was a soundless heartbreak, but her body told the story in spasms and gasps, in the desperate way she held onto him.

He leaned in from behind, the curve of his body fitting against hers, and with a tenderness only she ever saw in him, he gently wiped the tears from her face.

"I will always be with you," he whispered.

Even as he moved inside her, slowly, his soul was torn. Every thrust was an apology. Every breath against her neck was a plea. He was giving her all he could. She deserved forever. And he was haunted by the fear that all he could offer was now.

Then came the moment that unraveled them both.

As he felt her tighten around him, her body wracked with spasms, her cries muffled against the pillow, his own control broke. His fangs descended, sharp and unrelenting, and he sank them into the mark he had once given her long ago. The skin gave way easily, as though welcoming him home.

The moment his teeth pierced her, the bond reignited. Her climax detonated, so powerful it made her scream his name through her sobs. Her body convulsed violently. The marking supercharged every nerve.

She spasmed and unspasmed, clenched and unclenched in rhythmic waves that overtook her completely. Damien held her tighter, his hips never faltering, driven to meet her in the storm.

Inside her, he could feel every contraction of her walls. Every pulse. He buried himself deep, gripping her waist tightly as he thrust harder, faster—chasing his own edge. It hit him like a lightning strike, his own release exploding through him, anchoring his soul to hers in that one impossible moment. He didn’t stop moving until he was entirely spent, every drop of him poured into the woman he loved more than life itself.

*****

Talon was just about to finally head to bed when he heard the knock. The sound was soft but persistent.

He groaned, running a hand through his dark tousled hair. It was almost 4 a.m. The night had slipped away in a blur of jokes and drink with the Blood Castle guards, who, despite their ruthless reputation, could throw down a mean game of cards. He had barely made it back to the room Luna had assigned him, only removing his boots before collapsing in a chair.

His assignment was crystal clear—guard the queen with his life, and more importantly, discover who was behind the recent attack on the werewolf territory. The latter part of the assignment came with tangled complications. He couldn’t simply snoop around. Conversations stopped when he entered the room. Even his own heartbeat felt like a betrayal, pounding loudly in a palace where preternatural hearing could pick up the slightest shift in breath.

Information was power here, and Talon knew he was at a disadvantage. As a werewolf, he was already out of place, tolerated only because of his affiliation to the queen. If he wanted answers, he needed allies.

He was still unraveling the implications of it all when the knock came again.

He moved to the door with caution. Peering through the peephole, he nearly cursed aloud.

It was the queen.

He snapped the door open in an instant, posture shifting into rigid respect. "Your Majesty," he greeted.

But Luna didn’t waste time with niceties. Her eyes met his with urgency.

"I don’t have time, Talon. I am so sorry to ask you this in the middle of the night," she said quickly, "but it is very important."

Talon nodded once.

She stepped inside his room just enough to keep her voice lowered. "I need you to go to Ebonheart Hotel. Take the captain of the royal guard with you. Find Lady Sharona—there is a woman, her maid. Bring her maid here, and reiterate to Lady Sharona that the prince needs her gone by morning."

(In one word, describe this Chapter.)