<h4>Chapter 279: A Distraction Would Be Nice</h4>


    The crude bluntness of his words made Lunaugh despite herself, her cheeks heating even as her lips parted in mock-scandal. The sharp turn from worry to want was so Damien, infuriating and intoxicating all at once.


    He was offering her his favorite solution.


    "A distraction would be nice." Luna’sugh was light. Her fingers tightened around Damien’s shirt, tugging him closer as if she were tired of being queen, tired of masks, and just wanted to be his woman again.


    "Why didn’t you just say so?" Damien bent his head, lips brushing her mark as he nibbled gently at the sensitive spot on her neck. A soft shiver ran down her spine, and he caught it instantly, smirking. "Were you trying to y hard to get? Because if so, I’m warning you, woman, that game doesn’t end the way you think."


    Luna tilted her head, granting him more ess while arching a brow. "I can’t make it so easy for you all the time now, can I? A king should work for his queen."


    He chuckled darkly. "Nothing’s ever been easy with you, Moonlight. But damn if I don’t love the fight." In one fluid motion, he swept her up, bridal style, his muscles flexing as if she weighed nothing. His eyes glinted with that feral pride that always made her heart flutter—her mate, her king.


    As he carried her down the hall, Luna studied his face—the sharp jawline, the intensity burning in his gaze. She knew the world bowed to him, but here, in his arms, she was the only one who ever truly had him.


    "After the ceremony," she said suddenly, "let’s spend a few days at the werewolf castle."


    He stopped mid-stride, cocking an eyebrow. "With Kyllian?" His lips twitched. "You bring that up right when I’m about to toss you on our bed and ruin you for the rest of the night?"


    Luna smirked knowingly. "Oh, stop being a big baby."


    He growled, pretending to pout. "Woman, do you know how unsexy it is to talk about your ex boyfriend while I’m hard as hell?" He tightened his grip on her thighs just to prove his point, the heat in his eyes threatening to devour her.


    "Oh, poor thing." She cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing his lower lip. "You’ll survive. And besides, you’ll get your reward tonight."


    He groaned dramatically, adjusting her weight before marching forward again. With one swift kick, he shoved their bedroom door open. The oak mmed against the wall. "For you, Moonlight," he murmured, his gaze burning only for her. "I’ll do anything."


    Her lips parted, her chest rising with emotion—because she knew he meant it. The yful words held a vow, a truth buried beneath desire.


    ******


    Kyllian sat slouched on the edge of a sofa, his elbows braced on his knees. His piercing eyes never strayed from the unconscious woman stretched across the bed.


    It had been two days since he found her battered and half-dead in the woods. Two days since his wolf had gone into a frenzy, restless every time he tried to leave the room.


    She would survive, yes. But her recovery would be slow, agonizingly so. And the strangest part—the wounds still refused to heal at the speed any werewolf’s body should.


    "Who the hell are you?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he studied her pale face.


    She was beautiful, even broken. His gut clenched at the sight of her swollen belly, the evidence of a child she carried.


    He was curious about the woman—curious in a way that gnawed at him. His wolf had never once behaved this way. Why had it dragged him off the road? Why had it demanded he bow to her? The thought itself was absurd.


    He knew nothing about her. He needed exnations, damn it.


    A flicker caught his eye. His head snapped toward her—her hand, fingers twitching ever so slightly against the sheets. His chest tightened as he shot to his feet, standing over her, eyes scanning for any other sign of life. Breath caught, anticipation curling in his gut.


    He leaned in, close enough to see the fine tremor in hershes. But then... nothing. Minutes dragged by, cruel in their slowness, and the room was once again still.


    He cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, frustrated at himself for getting worked up over a twitch.


    A knock came at the door, and before he could answer, it opened. Ravena strolled in—regal even in simple gowns, her silver-streaked hair pulled back.


    "Queen Mother," Kyllian greeted.


    "Your Highness," she said with a small smile. "Any changes?"


    He exhaled heavily, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. "If you count a tiny twitch of her finger as progress, then yes. Otherwise, she’s as still as stone."


    Ravena sighed. She stepped closer, her gaze softening at the sight of the stranger. "Who would do this? To a woman, and a pregnant one at that?"


    "Hopefully," Kyllian muttered, "when she wakes up, she’ll tell us."


    Ravena’s eyes flicked to him. "You said your wolf led you to her?"


    "Yes." He paused. "Not just led. He... submitted."


    Ravena’s head snapped toward him, her brows arching. "Submitted?"


    He nodded once. "It’s weird. I—You know the feeling we get under the full moon, when it’s so bright it pulls at us?"


    "Yes."


    "Exactly. That’s what I felt." His gaze slid back to the unconscious woman.


    "I’ll stay with her," she said firmly. "The council needs you. You’ve been in here for days already, neglecting duties only you can shoulder." She paused, sniffing lightly, then wrinkled her nose. "Take a shower first though. You stink."


    Chuckling, Kyllian forced himself to walk out, the doors shutting behind him.


    Left alone, Ravena moved closer to the woman. "Who are you?" Ravena murmured. "And why do I want to bow to you too?"


    *****


    Lucivar stood beside his son in the temple. The priest, d in ceremonial white, stood before them.


    The temple doors creaked open, and the room stilled. Luna stepped through, the child cradled against her, Morvakar at her side. What remained of the councilmen, diminished and weary after betrayal had thinned their ranks, straightened.


    Damien’s gaze found his wife instantly. And gods, every damn time, it hit him—the awe, the hunger, the unshakable bond. She was radiant in her blood-red royal dress. Already the mother of his child, and still, somehow, she made him feel like the same man who had stumbled into her in the woods, spellbound.


    Morvakar walked half a step behind her, his presence solid.


    Luna handed the swaddled heir to the waiting priest.


    She moved to her husband’s side. She tilted her head slightly, catching Lucivar’s gaze. He stood a pace behind Damien, stoic as always. Yet when his eyes met hers, he allowed a small smile to soften the iron edges of his face. Relief bloomed inside her.


    The priest, muttering a prayer carried the child to the altar-like tform at the temple’s center. The child’s cries quieted the moment he wasid down. The priest raised his hands, dipping his fingers in a bowl of oil, anointing the infant’s brow, chest, and tiny palms. His prayers were low, older than memory.


    Atst, the priest lowered his arms and gave Damien a solemn nod.


    Damien strode forward, shoulders broad, back straight. He lifted his son from the altar. Turning toward the gathered assembly, his voice carried. "On this day, in the reign of King Damien and Queen Luna Dragos, I present to you Blood City’s Royal Heir. Prince Magnus Dragos."


    Luna’s entire body went still. Her eyes flew to her husband, wide. Magnus. Her father’s name.


    Her chest constricted in awe that he would honor her bloodline so boldly.


    Damien, sensing her gaze as keenly as if it were fire on his skin, turned his head just enough to meet her eyes. A slow smile curved his lips.


    As the council of lords bowed low to the tiny prince, Luna’s throat burned with unshed tears, a storm of love and gratitude all mixing together. She wanted to kiss her husband right there before gods and men, to thank him with more than words, to show him that this moment meant more than any crown or title ever could.


    Trying to keep herposure, Luna bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to stand tall, shoulders back, chin lifted. Her lips parted, and though no sound came out, she mouthed the words only he was meant to see. I love you.


    Damien caught it. With steady grace, he turned and passed the swaddled heir into Morvakar’s waiting arms.


    The priest announced the closing of the rite. Morvakar bowed, then strode toward the massive temple doors, the child in his arms. The councilmen followed behind him.


    The doors groaned open, spilling sunlight and the roar of the waiting crowd into the sacred chamber. Outside, cheers rose as Morvakar lifted the heir for the people to see. Luna caught a glimpse of it.


    (Renaheath, NishaJade, AprilMckee, Sereneflower. I love you all)