Chapter 248: I Thought I Lost You
She crossed the gates in a heartbeat, and then she saw him.
He stood there, framed by the morning light, in front of the car he had arrived in. Time slowed, the world falling away until there was only this moment. She froze, drinking him in—the way his skin seemed to shimmer faintly where the sunlight kissed it, even though his cloak and wide-brimmed hat shielded most of him. The proud, carved line of his jaw. The dangerous stillness of his stance.
He looked up, and their eyes met. The bond roared awake.
Damien could feel life seeping back into him just by the sight of her. His chest tightened painfully, his throat burning with all the words he had rehearsed in her absence, none of them strong enough to hold the truth of his relief. She’s alive. She’s here. She’s mine. Everything he ever wanted—everything he had nearly damned himself to have—stood just a few feet away.
He had thought he’d lost her forever. He had clawed through the edge of darkness to drag himself back to her. He had done the unspeakable for the sliver of a chance to see her again. And now, here she was. Fragile, yes—her frame slimmer, her skin pale from confinement. Her beauty tempered by weariness. But she was still Luna. Still radiant. Still his.
His fists clenched at his sides to steady himself. He had dreamed of this reunion and now that it was real, he feared he might shatter if he touched her.
"Moonlight..." Damien’s endearment for her, whispered countless times in the privacy of their chambers, now fell into the open air. His throat tightened as though speaking her name aloud had stolen all the strength from his chest.
Luna’s eyes glistened, a happy laugh bubbling up from her lungs, almost giddy and breathless. She ran. Then, without hesitation, she leapt into his arms. The movement was instinctual, as natural as breathing.
Damien caught her with ease, his arms closing around her body like iron shackles that would never let go. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her skin—savoring it like the sweetest elixir. In that embrace, he poured every ounce of anguish, and devotion he had carried through hell. He trembled slightly, though his grip was unyielding, as if letting her go for even a second would undo the miracle of this reunion.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered hoarsely against her ear.
She pulled back just enough to see his face, her hands cupping his cheeks, her thumbs brushing the sharp line of his jaw. His eyes glowed with a storm of emotion, too much for her to take in at once. "I thought I lost you too," she breathed, her own tears catching in the corners of her eyes. For a brief second, she marveled at how different he looked under the sun—his skin shimmering faintly, fragile yet defiant against the light. It made her want to shield him, even as she wanted to drown in him.
"God... I missed you," Damien’s laugh escaped like a broken sob, bubbling from his chest with both joy and disbelief. His mouth found hers, crushing her lips beneath his in a kiss that was everything. He kissed her like a dying man drawing in breath after suffocation, desperate and tender all at once. His hands roamed her back, memorizing her form as if it were new again, while her fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.
They stood there just outside the palace gates, locked in that kiss, defying the stares of guards and servants. A werewolf and a vampire, entwined in broad daylight, daring the world to deny their love. For those suspended moments, there was no war, no betrayal, no pain—only them.
When they finally pulled apart, Luna’s breath caught, her lips swollen, her chest heaving. Damien rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to let go. "The baby?"
"I’ll explain," she promised. "But first—come on. Let’s get you out of the sun before you turn into salt." Her lips quirked in a teasing smile, the banter slipping in like balm over a wound.
Damien chuckled, low and rough, the sound vibrating through her bones. "Salt? Really?" His body followed hers as though he had no choice in the matter—because he didn’t. Wherever she went, he would follow, even into death.
Once in the parlour, the doors shut behind them, shutting out the palace whispers and wary glances. The chamber was vast, gilded with sunlight filtered through high arched windows, the drapes drawn just enough to soften the glare. Yet for Luna, the room seemed to disappear the moment she pulled him close again. She clutched Damien’s coat, her body melting into his as though she could pour her strength into him through sheer touch. Their lips met—as though they hadn’t just kissed outside the gates. When she finally tore herself away, her eyes locked with his and her voice came out in a trembling whisper. "Morvakar said you were dying."
Damien’s narrowed. The truth burned inside him, clawing for release, yet shame made it taste like ash. He could not lie to her. "I was," he admitted quietly. He should tell her everything now—the shameful act of survival, the betrayal of their bond, the mark he had given another woman. He could almost hear her voice echoing from that night, urging him to live even if it meant something unspeakable. He wanted to say it aloud, confess and beg for her forgiveness, but his lips faltered. He lifted his gaze to her, heavy with torment. "So Morvakar did have you?"
Luna’s hand slipped from his coat, trembling slightly. Her lashes lowered, a storm of guilt flickering across her features before she forced the truth out. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "He lied... to protect us."
Hope surged hot in his chest. His hand shot forward, fingers curling around her wrist almost desperately. "Us?" he breathed.
Her lips trembled, but her eyes lifted to his. "We have a boy," Luna announced.