The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 82: Sleeping at Last - Saturn

Chapter 82: Sleeping at Last - Saturn

"Yeah," Damien admitted, sitting back down with a sigh. "Mostly my fault. I know."

She gave a small nod, not disagreeing. "Well, yes...the doctor explained the routine more precisely. We can’t just... jump each other on a single day and expect miracles. It’s a cycle thing. We need to, um, engage"—she made air quotes—"a few days before, during, and a few days after the window. So basically, an entire week of very focused effort."

"Oh," Damien blinked. "Okay. That... actually sounds manageable."

Seliora squinted at him suspiciously. "What has gotten into you? Whatever you’re high on, I want it in an IV drip."

He grinned, amused by her skepticism. "Maybe I just realized we’re all running out of time. Even immortals."

She stared at him for a beat, lips parting slightly.

Damien rose, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t passionate, but it was intimate. Familiar. Almost kind. "Goodnight, Seliora."

Seliora sat frozen on the stool long after Damien had left, her hands folded tightly in her lap, nails digging crescents into her palms. She stared blankly at the ornate mirror in front of her, the gold-leaf frame doing nothing to distract her from the whiplash she had just experienced.

What... the actual hell just happened?

This wasn’t the plan. She had dressed up, not for seduction, but for strategic intimidation. She’d expected a cold wall of rejection, an awkward dismissal, maybe even a guilt-laced speech about how things had changed now that the golden goddess Luna was back. She had mentally armed herself for war, not... cooperation.

He wanted to try again?

Was it genuine, or some masterful distraction to keep her from storming into the council chambers in the morning and ripping the veil off the palace’s tidy lies? Her fingers twitched at her sides. Maybe it was a trick. But if it was... it was a good one. Gods help her, it was a good one.

*****

"You can leave," Kyllian grunted as he stood to his feet beside the large bed, his bare, chiseled ass unapologetically catching the moonlight.

Jane, still tangled in silk sheets, stretched, the tips of her fingers grazing the headboard. "I think I should stay," she purred, letting the duvet slip ever-so-suggestively down her shoulder. "You know, in case round two comes calling."

"I think," he said through clenched teeth, "you should leave. Now."

Still not looking at her, Kyllian grabbed his pants from the floor. Jane’s smirk faltered.

"Kyllian..." she began. "You can’t keep doing this to me. I had accepted it, okay? That the princess was your ’someone better.’ I let you go. I swallowed my pride, sobbed into my pillow." fr.e ewe.bno.vel .com

"I accepted our breakup like a big girl," she continued, the edge in her voice sharpening. "But then you call me out of the blue, drag me into your bed, and now you’re tossing me out?"

Kyllian turned to face her.

"I keep telling you," he said, "just because we had sex doesn’t make me any less of your Alpha."

Jane raised a brow. "You’re naked. Hard to be intimidated right now."

He stalked forward, grabbing her discarded dress from the chair. "You will always address me as your Alpha."

"Oh, bite me."

He growled, shoving the dress toward her. "Get out!"

Jane winced, one hand still holding her crumpled dress against her chest as she hurried to gather the last of her things. Her shoes were tossed in separate corners of the room, and as she fumbled to strap them on, her fingers shook with a strange cocktail of shame, regret, and fury. She didn’t even bother with grace as she yanked open the door and stormed out, slamming it behind her.

Inside the room, silence lingered for a heartbeat—until it cracked like glass.

Kyllian stood motionless in the middle of the room, the silk sheets tangled around his feet, breathing like a beast cornered. And then—he snapped.

His fist slammed into the wall with such force that the plaster gave way in a puff of white dust and splinters. He didn’t stop. Again and again, his knuckles met the unyielding stone beneath. The thud of bone against wall echoed through the room.

Blood smeared in streaks, decorating the wall with his pain. His breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale a growl caught between man and wolf. His eyes glowed an unholy amber, not fully shifted, not fully human—caught in that primal in-between where nothing but instinct ruled.

Why had he let her go?

Why had he worked with Damien?

Why had he stepped back when his soul was screaming to claim her?

Because he’d been noble?

Because he thought he was doing the right thing?

What an idiot.

He had let himself be used—used! And now Luna had slipped through his fingers, and he was the one left gasping.

He struck the wall again. And again. His knuckles broke open, red blooming with each hit, his pulse roaring in his ears.

The door flew open with a crash.

"ALPHA!" Talon’s voice rang out.

Talon froze as he stepped into the room. His Alpha’s figure was hunched, trembling, bloodied knuckles still raised. The wall before him looked like it had been hit by a charging bull.

Kyllian turned sharply, slowly. His face was no longer fully his own—the bones beneath his skin strained, features flickering with the warping rage of his inner wolf. Half his jaw seemed caught mid-shift, his canines visibly lengthened, and his golden eyes burned with fury not entirely mortal.

He growled—low and guttural—as if daring Talon to try and stop him.

For a second, Talon nearly reconsidered his life choices. But then he squared his shoulders. "I know," he said, stepping forward carefully. "I know you hurt. I get it."

Kyllian snarled.

"I know what it feels like to want to punch until the pain in your heart finally shuts up. But this?" Talon gestured to the destroyed wall and the blood-slicked fists. "This isn’t going to fix it."

(Shout out to: MO_Wilson, Addicted2fantasy, Smiles)