The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 49: Whitney Houston - I Have Nothing

Chapter 49: Whitney Houston - I Have Nothing

Luna stood there for a breathless moment, forehead flat against the door, listening, waiting for his presence to pass.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, as though she had just run a marathon when all she had done was stand in her own heartache. She pressed her forehead to the door. She couldn’t face him.

Let him walk past, she prayed silently.

Let him go to his room, take off his clothes, wash her off his body, and sleep like nothing had happened.

She held her breath.

And waited.

But she knew it was useless. Locking the door was little more than performance art when you were hiding from a vampire prince who could literally hear your heartbeat from ten rooms away. And right now, that poor heart was slamming against her ribcage. She could feel him on the other side of the door.

There was no knock. There didn’t need to be. He wouldn’t invade her space unless invited, and she wasn’t ready to open that door.

Still, there they stood. Her on one side of the door in her silk nightgown, him on the other side with another woman’s scent still lingering on his skin. The air between them didn’t need to be shared to feel real. It was like they were tethered together by some invisible string that both pulled and punished.

They both cursed the gods who scripted their lives. Mates, but not lovers. Lovers, but not free. Close enough to feel each other breathe, far enough that even a kiss was a betrayal.

He had done his duty. She knew it. She felt it. And when the time came, she would do hers because love was a luxury neither of them could afford.

She lifted her hand slowly, and pressed her palm against the door, right over where she imagined his heart would be. She didn’t expect him to be there.

But he was.

On the other side of the door, Damien stood motionless, forehead against the wood. He could hear every tremble in her breath, every quick flutter of her pulse. That heartbeat... ... ...

He lifted his hand too, and without thinking, placed his palm against the wood, exactly where hers now rested.

A perfect match.

Two hands, divided by wood and a thousand heartbreaks.

They stood there, two royalty-shaped disasters, their fingers lined up like they were touching, though they were not.

The wood between them should have been just a door, but tonight it felt like a wall.

She swallowed hard, blinking tears back.

He closed his eyes and imagined the door gone. Just skin. Just her. Just them.

But when he opened them again, reality returned. And so did the ache.

And still, neither of them moved.

Because sometimes, even the bravest hearts are too afraid to open a door.

*****

King Magnus told his guards to hang back, his hand raised with a stern finality that brooked no argument. They hesitated at first, eyes darting toward the ancient castle. But this wasn’t something they could protect him from.

This wasn’t a battle of steel and blood.

He took the first step alone, the crunch of gravel beneath his boots far too loud in the choking silence of the valley. The castle towered above him, solemn, as though mourning its own ruin. Vines had long claimed the stonework, wrapping around the structure.

He followed the uneven stone walkway, each step feeling like a march toward finality. The heavy wooden doors groaned as he pushed them open, like even they didn’t want to let him in.

A wave of cold air slapped his face, like the castle was exhaling after centuries of holding its breath. The darkness inside was thick.

Steeling himself, Magnus stepped inside. "Morvakar!!!" he bellowed, his voice bouncing off the stone walls, echoing through space.

A light flickered deep in the corridor, wavering. He didn’t hesitate. He followed it.

"Morvakar! Show yourself!" he shouted again, trying not to let the tremor in his voice give him away. Another light flickered, this time further ahead, leading him down a narrow alleyway that seemed to twist with every step. The scent of old dust filled his nostrils.

He emerged into a room beneath the castle, a subterranean hall straight out of an ancient painting. Rich tapestries hung undisturbed on the walls. The furniture looked untouched by time.

Magnus scanned the space. No one. Just the eerie stillness of memories preserved in formaldehyde.

"Welcome!"

The voice came from behind him, terrifying in its gentleness. Magnus spun around, his spine tingled.

The ancient vampire stood there in robes that looked older than Magnus’s entire kingdom. His long grey hair fell past his shoulders. But his face was unexpectedly... unassuming. He was just a pale, aristocratic visage of a man who had lived far too long and was cosmically bored. His slightly red eyes glinted with amusement.

"I have been expecting you," Morvakar said smoothly, clasping his hands.

Magnus swallowed, unsure if it was his fear or his pride that got stuck in his throat.

Morvakar settled into the sofa with ease. His pale fingers, adorned with rings from forgotten eras, drummed lightly on the armrest, each tap echoing.

"You have? Why would you?" free we\bnove(l).com

"Don’t act stupid, Magnus. You’re cleverer than that." Morvakar’s tone was amused.

Magnus’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. "High praise coming from you. What was the clever motive behind cursing my child?"

"I did no such thing." Morvakar’s smile widened, revealing fangs that gleamed. "She grew up well, Luna... that’s her name, isn’t it?"

"Keep my daughter’s name out of your mouth," Magnus snapped.

"Shouldn’t you be telling me thank you, though? I gave you an heir." Morvakar’s words dripped with mock sincerity, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"An heir with a curse on her head. You took advantage of my wife, her vulnerability, her desperation." Magnus’s fists clenched at his sides.

"Everyone who comes seeking my help does so in desperation. How else do you think I keep myself entertained?" Morvakar leaned back, his grin unapologetic.

(Shoutout to @smiles, @anamika_gopal, @eucharia_kange)