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Chapter 87: ROGER WOUNDED
Huling Na-update:
2025-06-05 07:44:00
Pinakabagong kabanata
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 89: A NEW KIND OF LOVE
The fire had long since burned out. All that remained were the embers—simmering, stubborn, hot in a way that stayed in the bones long after the flames had stopped trying to devour the sky.Jasmine stood at the edge of it all. The courtyard, the blood, the silence that came after a pack had screamed themselves hoarse. Smoke clung to her hair. Her robe was open, her skin streaked in ash and sweat and grief. There was no one left to seduce. No one left to fight.Only him.Roger sat on the steps like a war beast too tired to bare his teeth. His shirt was ripped open, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, wounds healing beneath blood that refused to dry. The silver in his hair caught the moonlight. His mouth—usually curled in something cruel or cocky—was soft now. Slack. Human.Jasmine walked to him without sound.Not like prey.Not like a queen.Just a woman who had finally stopped running.He didn’t look up when she sank to her knees in front of him, didn’t move when her fingers b
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 88: SARAH'S LAST SONG
The fire was still burning.Not in the halls. Not in the trees. But inside Jasmine. In the cracks of her ribs. In the soft space behind her eyes where memories were supposed to sleep. It roared quiet and cruel. And she carried it like perfume.The floor of the throne room was soaked. Not with blood. But with breath—held, broken, spent. The council had scattered after the claiming, their arousal and fear still clinging to the walls like sweat. Jasmine hadn’t spoken to any of them.She hadn't needed to.They already knelt.But now, the moon was low... and something wasn’t right.Not with the air. Not with the silence. Not with the hollow chill that slid down her spine like a ghost dragging fingers made of ice.She didn’t wait for warning.She ran.Barefoot. Through the stone halls of Blackfang’s court, through the heat and echo of its sleeping bones. Her robe fluttered behind her like a wound still bleeding silk. No one stopped her.Not when they saw her face.It was Roger who met her a
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 87: ROGER WOUNDED
The battlefield was already cooling when she saw him fall.Not in surrender.Not in death.But in the kind of collapse that breaks something permanent.Roger didn’t cry out. He didn’t scream. He hit the earth the way mountains do when they finally remember gravity. Hard. Slow. Final.The wolves were still howling, still huddled and licking wounds or limping toward each other like survivors of some forgotten god’s wrath. Jasmine had been walking back to the shattered stone ring, barefoot and blood-drunk, her pulse still singing in her wrists. And then—She turned.And the world went silent.There he was. Bent in the waist. Blood leaking from beneath his ribs like something sacred. One knee in the dirt. One hand pressed into the ground like it might keep him tethered to the living.He looked up at her, and there was nothing regal in his face. Nothing cruel. Just a man who had given everything and hadn’t noticed it until now.Jasmine didn’t run.She walked.Slow.Like every step was a de
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 86: THE MOON FALLS
The moon wasn’t just full.It was swollen. Veined. Drenched in crimson like it had swallowed a war.And below it, the land burned.Not with fire—no. With bodies. With howls. With lust-turned-fury and oaths turned feral. The clearing where Jasmine stood was carved from violence. The earth had already begun drinking. Blood soaked the grass like wine poured too greedily, and the air was thick with it... hot, metallic, intoxicating.The first scream didn’t come from a throat. It came from the earth.And Jasmine answered it.She didn’t wear armor. She wore her own skin. Painted in ash, blood, and memory. Her hair hung in dark waves, damp from sweat and the night’s fever. Around her throat... the pendant Elora had once given her. Still shining. Still sharp.She wasn’t the kind of queen they’d expected.She was the kind of queen they deserved.And now... she had come to collect.The first rogue lunged from the trees—a blur of fur and fang. Too fast for a human. Too arrogant for a survivor.J
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 85: UNLEASHED
The wind moved first.Not the trees. Not the wolves.The wind.It slid between bodies like fingers through hair, like tongues across skin, humming with something ancient… something awakened. It carried the copper heat of blood and the crushed sweetness of jasmine petals. It whispered names none of them had spoken in decades. Names like prayers. Names like curses.And at the center of it all—Jasmine.Not Jasmine the courtesan. Not Jasmine the captive. Not even Jasmine the whisper in Blackfang’s filthy court.No.She stood half-naked in the courtyard, the scraps of silk clinging to her body like shadows that didn’t want to let go. Her skin glowed gold in the firelight, kissed with dirt, smoke, and bruises she hadn’t earned—she’d taken. Her hair coiled wild around her shoulders, wind-lifted like a crown made from hunger and lightning.She didn’t look like a Luna.She didn’t even look like a woman anymore.She looked like something they’d buried long ago…… and were stupid enough to think
A Luna And A Whore Chapter 84: ROGUES DESCEND
The wind came in sharp from the north.Not cold. Not yet. But biting.It carried no scent of pine. No smell of moss. Just rot and ruin and blood not yet spilled.The guards smelled it first. Wolves posted along the ridges, high on the stone walls of Blackfang, noses twitching, eyes narrowed. Something ancient curled in the belly of the air. Wrong. Familiar. Like the taste of iron on a blade you forgot you were still holding.Then came the first cry.Not a howl.A scream.It broke from the eastern watchtower like a throat torn open—ripped from the belly of a man who never expected to feel that much fear before his death. Then silence. Then nothing.Then the second scream, this time from the southern slope. Then a third. A fourth.Then silence again.Too perfect. Too coordinated.Too late.Jasmine stood at the upper balcony of the northern spire, hair wild from the wind, robes whipping behind her like they were made of smoke. She watched it come. She didn't blink. Didn't move.Because s
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