Just then, the grand archway of the palace lood before them. Kyllian pulled the car to a slow, deliberate stop, letting the engine purr to silence as if giving space for his thoughts to settle.
He turned to her. "Because..." he paused, swallowing, "because I always had a thing for you, Princess."
Luna’s lips parted slightly. She looked at him, really looked. His eyes were earnest, no longer teasing. Vulnerable in a way she hadn’t expected from soone like him.
"I... I didn’t know. I an Talon ntioned it but I thought he was rely joking." she said finally.
He gave a short, dry laugh, looking away. "Talon talks too much. It’s okay, Princess. But it’s nice to know you’re warming up to ."
"Kyllian..." she started again.
"Forget it, Luna," he cut in gently, already unbuckling his seatbelt. She placed a hand on his arm.
"No! I want to— I need to say this. You’re a good man, Kyllian. And you’ll make a fine king. But I need to ask you, are you sure this is what you want?" She gestured toward the palace, its grandeur and responsibility looming in the windows. "Are you sure you want to give up the simple life of your pack?"
He turned toward her again, and this ti, his voice was firm, unwavering. "For you, Luna. Only for you."
And that was it. A warmth spread through her chest, and her lips curved into the kind of smile that couldn’t be faked.
"Then I’m glad I took my sex ed lessons seriously," she said with a sly smile.
Kyllian blinked. "What?"
She shrugged, all innocent mischief. "Well, I spent three days learning how to please my husband. If you’re doing all of this for , then I sure as hell will et up to your expectations."
Kyllian stared at her instantly aroused. "You had to go there right when I’m about to et your father?"
Luna tilted her head, feigning confusion. "Why?"
"Because," he groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I currently have a bulge in my pants, Princess. And your father knows exactly what that ans."
"Can I see?" Luna teased, batting her lashes dramatically.
"For fuck’s sake! Just get out of the car!" Kyllian growled playfully. Luna dissolved into giggles as she slipped out of the car.
*****
The morning of her wedding dawned with a strange calmness, as if her heart had finally agreed to cooperate for once.
She had half expected to wake up drenched in cold sweat, hyperventilating, plotting a last-minute escape via palace tunnels. But she sat calmly before her mirror as her designer pinned the final strands of her hair into a simple yet elegant style. Her reflection showed a young woman ready to take a leap, steady and maybe a little bit brave.
Kyllian was a good man. Solid, steady, kind in ways that surprised her. She could grow to love him. In fact, her body seed far ahead of her emotions, already doing embarrassing things every ti he so much as smiled at her. She wasn’t marrying for political strategy alone, not anymore.
Her wedding dress was a masterpiece stitched by the three top designers. The final result? A dress that shimred, simple in silhouette but heavy with diamonds and moonstones stitched into the bodice because her mother, had decreed that no daughter of hers would look "cheap at her own damn wedding."
Now, standing beside her father, King Magnus, Luna waited for the music to start. She could feel the heavy weight of the royal pendant around her neck.
The music swelled, a rich, lodious tune. King Magnus squeezed her hand. "You ready, my love?"
Luna smiled, a real smile this ti, and nodded. She wasn’t just walking toward duty. She was walking toward Kyllian, a man she believed would do right by her.
As they moved through the towering arched doorway into the grand ballroom, a hush fell over the crowd. Hundreds of guests turned toward her, a tidal wave of faces—so familiar, others complete strangers. She spotted nobles in fine silks, ambassadors from other kingdoms, and even a few faces from the Royal Academy, her old friends waving discreetly from the back rows.
Trust her mother to turn her wedding into the political event of the century.
Her palms briefly went clammy against her father’s sleeve, but she pushed down the rising tide of nerves and locked her gaze forward, searching.
Standing at the end of the aisle was Kyllian.
He looked devastatingly handso, dressed in ceremonial suit, the royal colors draped over one shoulder. His hair was combed neatly back, but the slight wave at his temple refused to be tad.
He smiled at her with pride and yearning. She inhaled sharply, the last of her doubts scattering.
She clung to his gaze as if it were a lifeline, letting it pull her forward, one step, another, and another, gaining confidence with every pace.
Yes, she was ready.
And Kyllian Ryker was waiting.
When Luna finally reached Kyllian at the altar, the world around her seed to blur into a muffled hum. The only thing sharp and clear was Kyllian’s steady gaze, the way he smiled at her as if she was the most precious thing in the entire damn ballroom—and he would tackle anyone who dared disagree.
The priestess began the sacred ritual, her voice solemn as she intoned the ancient words ant to bind them together in holy matrimony. The air grew thick with incense smoke, swirling around them in lazy tendrils.
"Repeat after ," the priestess commanded, and dutifully, Luna and Kyllian did.
She promised to honor him, stand by him, and to submit to his leadership as her alpha. Luna swallowed hard as she said those words, feeling the weight of them settle into her bones, feeling how every syllable shifted her life permanently.
The priestess then picked up a ceremonial dagger, the blade glinting under the chandeliers. With the ease of long practice, she sliced a shallow line into Kyllian’s palm. He watched with quiet dignity as his blood welled up rich and red, dripping dramatically into a clear glass for all to witness. It was symbolic, the mingling of two souls, the blending of two bloodlines.
Luna braced herself, extending her hand as the priestess moved toward her, dagger poised.
And that’s when it happened.
The double doors of the grand ballroom whooshed open with dramatic flair.
)
Without even turning to look, Luna knew it was him. Her heart gave a violent, confused lurch inside her chest. Cold panic chased down her spine as she locked eyes with Kyllian, whose hands imdiately tightened around hers in silent alarm.
The audience gasped as Damien strode in, utterly unbothered by the scandal he had just caused.
He looked every bit the vampire prince he was born to be: dark, polished, and dangerously beautiful, dressed in midnight-black suit that seed to swallow the light around him.
Seeing Luna’s panic and the way her body instinctively leaned closer to him, Kyllian reacted imdiately. He moved without hesitation, stepping in front of Luna with the protectiveness of a seasoned alpha, barring Damien’s path with a low, rumbling growl.
King Magnus shot to his feet, his gold-embroidered robe flaring out behind him. His hand hovered near the ceremonial sword at his hip, a silent warning. If Damien weren’t royalty—and an ally to boot—he’d already be headless. "Prince Damien," Magnus’s voice bood across the hall. "Is there a reason for this unforgivable interruption?"
(Guys, comnts please. I write better with feedback.)
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