Chapter 252: They Belong With Me
"I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life," Damien said. His thumb traced circles over Luna’s hand. His eyes were dark and steady. "My wife, my son, and however many children we have in the future—they belong with me. Not in hiding. Not as secrets. Not as sacrifices to the cowardice of councilmen."
Luna’s lips curved slowly though tears glistened in her eyes from the sheer force of his words. She bit her lip and tilted her head, a teasing spark flaring through her grief. "When you talk like that, you get me all hot and bothered." Her body leaned against his, and the faintest smirk tugged at her mouth—an invitation and a challenge both.
Damien chuckled, shaking his head, though the sound was thick with both amusement and desire. He brushed a kiss along her temple, then pulled back just enough to catch her gaze. "You naughty girl," he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving upward. "You just had a difficult birth, and you’re still thinking about my cock." His laughter warmed the air between them, though his eyes flared with hunger he barely restrained. His hand skimmed down her arm, lingering at her wrist.
"Always," Luna breathed, meeting his hunger with her own. She let her nails trail lightly down his chest, savoring the feel of his muscles shifting beneath her touch. "Always, Damien. Even when the world tries to take you from me."
He growled low in his throat and kissed her again, a claim and a farewell all at once. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, his breath mingling with hers. "You can have all of me when you get your sweet ass back home," he promised. "Every part of me—my cock, my balls. But I have to go now. There’s madness that needs to be addressed before it swallows us whole." His hand cupped her face as if reluctant to let go, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheekbone.
"I’ll speak with Talon for a bit and he will be ready," she said softly, kissing him once more, lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary.
*****
Talon had retrieved the message from the Waldorf and carried it to the king’s castle. The doors groaned shut behind him.
When he arrived at the audience chamber, Councilman Richard was waiting near the table.
"Talon, right?"
"Yes, sir." Talon bowed slightly. He stood stiff.
"Any word about the queen?" Richard asked. His eyes searched Talon’s face. His brow furrowed slightly, betraying genuine concern.
For a moment, Talon hesitated, weighing what he knew against what he should say. His loyalty was to Damien, to Luna, not to a council that had condemned an unborn child. Still, the rawness in Richard’s tone stirred a flicker of doubt. Could the councilman truly care, or was this another mask in their endless game of power?
"Not yet, sir," Talon lied smoothly. "Has the king been informed of your presence?"
"Yes. Eryk just went in."
Talon bowed, a formal gesture to cover his relief at escaping further questions.
He pushed through the doors of the grand parlour and found Damien there, seated at a low table with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. The king’s posture was relaxed, his movements unhurried. The shadows that had haunted his face seemed lighter now.
Damien looked up as Talon entered. His smile was sudden and disarming. He set the cup down with a faint clink and turned to Eryk, his lips quirking with mischief. "Did you know Talon here was supposed to be my shackle? To ensure the queen is safe with me."
The rare sight of Damien teasing lifted some invisible weight from the room.
"I’m sure we are very much past that, Your Highness," Eryk said. "Shall I bring in Councilman Richard?"
"Of course," Damien replied smoothly. His gaze lingered on Eryk as he exited, but the moment the doors shut behind him, Damien’s entire bearing shifted. He crossed the room with long, purposeful strides until he stood before Talon. "Anything?"
Talon straightened. "Yes," he admitted, then hesitated. "And for the record, I am still your shackle."
It had been too long since Talon had made a jest. The sound of his own attempt at humor felt foreign, almost fragile in the room’s vast stillness. There was always a storm on the horizon.
Damien chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that rolled easily from his chest. It felt good—foreign almost—to laugh at something so simple. "Duly noted," he said. "Are you giving me the message, or taking it to Luna?"
"I believe this may be useful for you right now," Talon replied, choosing his words carefully, as though they might be overheard by walls or spirits themselves. He drew the note from his coat and placed it into Damien’s waiting hand with deliberate respect. Just then, the doors groaned open and Councilman Richard stepped in. Talon bowed with quick precision, and excused himself from the parlour.
"Your Highness," Richard greeted. His sharp eyes swept over Damien with relief. "It is truly good to see you on your feet. The rumours going around—goddess have mercy." He pressed a hand to his chest but Damien barely registered him. The king’s attention was locked on the message in his hand.
The note was short.
’There seems to be a hidden exit in the office.’
His brow furrowed, tension crawling up his spine. He had been told something similar before—Lurent had muttered once about secrets in Gabriel’s office, but Damien had dismissed it at the time as paranoia. Now, with the words staring up at him, it was impossible to ignore.
"Your Highness?"
Damien blinked, pulling himself back from the note’s grip. He folded it neatly, tucking it into his palm. "I’m sorry, Councilman," he said. "Got a bit distracted. What can I do for you?" His eyes flicked to Richard.
"I genuinely came to see about your health," Richard replied, clasping his hands before him. "It has caused quite a ruckus, you see. The palace whispers grow louder with each passing day. People speak of your frailty. Of weakness. They wonder if the throne still has an heir worthy of sitting upon it."