The Vampire's Luna

Seliora turned slightly, tossing him a sidelong glance over her shoulder. "Awkward questions," she said, smoothing a gloved hand over her hip with practiced elegance. "Questions about whether I’ve been replaced."

Damien chuckled softly, but the laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’ll see you at home... sometime," she added.

"Seliora?" he called after her, and she paused, mid-step.

"Uhn?" She turned back to him, brows arched in question, playing the perfect image of calm detachment.

"I know this hurts you," Damien said. There was no condescension in his tone, just quiet honesty. "You shouldn’t pretend."

There was a heartbeat of silence between them. Her eyes shimmered slightly under the lights of the grand hall. "I am a big girl," she said finally, the edge in her voice returning. "As long as my place is still defined, your highness, I have no problems."

And then, Seliora leaned in, rising to her toes and pressing her lips to his. She lingered just long enough to make a point, a silent declaration inked in lipstick and history. Damien didn’t pull back. Instead, he smiled warmly at her, a kind smile laced with regret and too much understanding.

"See you around," he said gently.

"Goodnight, your highness," she replied with a slight curtsey. As she turned to leave, her smirk returned in full bloom.

Just behind Damien, Seliora had spotted Luna standing just at the entrance of the patio, watching. Her green eyes narrowed, jaw set.