The Vampire's Luna

"Wow. Good morning to you, too."

"Luna. What went wrong?"

Damien tilted his head. "You storm into my house and assume I did something wrong?"

Kyllian advanced, nostrils flaring, jaw tight. "She came home broken."

"And you assumed I broke her?" Damien raised a very condescending eyebrow.

"Well then," Kyllian snapped, "tell me why I see resignation in her eyes. Why does she look like someone who’s made peace with her own destruction? Why does it feel like she’s already said goodbye to everything?"

Damien ran a hand down his face, the usual calm detachment gone, replaced with guilt. "I..." He hesitated. Not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he had too many, and none would make sense to someone who didn’t live inside his cursed bones. "We didn’t speak before she left," he said finally. "It’s complicated. And I cannot explain it to you."

"Try me," Kyllian growled. "Because I chose to work with you. Work, Damien... That means I tolerate you. Barely. But make no mistake...if I ever get even a hint that you’ve hurt her, I will knock your royal, blood-sucking ass out."

There was a beat of silence. Then Damien was gone.

Or rather, he moved. In less than a breath, he blurred through the room, a gust of supernatural wind trailing behind him. Suddenly, he was there, right in Kyllian’s space, chest to chest, eye to eye, no distance left for air.