All Chapters of The Luna's Groom: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

A U T H O R “Please help me,” Perseus said, the words barely leaving his throat as it cracked with panic. He held Asmodeus back by the arm, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “She’s gone through a miscarriage before. I can’t do this to her again. I can’t. There has to be a way.” Asmodeus let out a slow, tired sigh, one that made Perseus’ heart pound faster. Then, without a word, he gently peeled Perseus’ hand off him and walked toward the window. He closed the blinds, sealing them inside a room that suddenly felt like it was shrinking with every second. “There’s more to your wife than you know, Perseus. A lot more,” Asmodeus said as he crossed over to the door of his stall and shut it with a quiet finality. “Things even I’m just beginning to uncover.” Perseus dropped onto one of the stools at the counter, his eyes locked on Asmodeus, bloodshot and burning from everything he had seen, everything he feared. He felt like he was unraveling slowly—no, not sl

E L E A N O R I can’t believe it. That he’d actually say those words to me. Here I am, pregnant with a child that could kill me—just like my mother—and he’s saying these things to me, just like my father did to her. It makes me sick. My mouth goes bitter, my stomach twisting into knots. I want to scream at him. I want to slap him hard enough to wipe that resigned look off his face. But then his voice trembles, and he’s staring at me like this isn’t something he wants to do, but something he thinks we have to do. What the hell am I even thinking? Keeping a child for my half-brother? A man I’m unfortunately married to? A dragon? How is this real? Were my visions true? Did Cassandra really have an affair with Thomas Black? The questions spin in my head, relentless, suffocating. “I don’t think I can keep up with this, Perseus.” The words slip out before I can stop them, but the weight inside me doesn’t lift. If anything, it only grows heavier. He steps closer, his hands tremb

A U T H O R Aurelialis, Fae Empire. Thomas flicked on the torch as he stepped through the portal, its harsh beam cutting through the dim glow of the Fae realm. With a heavy sigh, he swept the light across the sprawling empire of Aurelialis, its towering spires and twisting vines bathed in an eerie luminescence. The air hummed with magic, thick and cloying, pressing against his skin like an unwelcome touch. His gaze lingered on the scene before him, and a familiar weight settled in his chest. A memory surged forward—sharp, unbidden—a baby’s cry echoing in his mind, the child he had never held, only glimpsed through the cold window of the Fae Queen’s scrying portal. His jaw tightened. He blinked hard, forcing the image away, and resumed his march across the border. The torch flickered once before he switched it off, tossing it aside without a second thought. It clattered against the roots of an ancient tree, its purpose served. The Fae Queen’s letter had been clear—a summons,

E L E A N O R I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve vomited today. The sharp, acidic burn in my throat is something I’ve grown used to, but the sight of blood swirling in the water still sends a jolt of fear through me, cold and immediate. Perseus is cleaning it up again, his movements slow and methodical as he drags the mop across the floor. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he’s scared too—he’s just better at hiding it than I am. The silence between us is heavy, filled with things neither of us wants to voice. The nausea hasn’t let up, not even for a second. My stomach churns violently, rejecting everything, even the water I force myself to sip just to stay alive. Perseus hasn’t left my side, not once. His stubble has grown into a rough shadow along his jaw, and the dark circles under his eyes tell me he hasn’t slept in days. Guilt twists inside me, sharp and relentless. He should be resting. He should be eating. But instead, he’s here, watching me fall apart piece by piece,

E L E A N O R I can’t see him clearly through the haze of my own weakening vision, but I know it’s him. My body grows heavier with every passing second, my limbs stiffening as the cold burrows deeper into my bones. My teeth chatter violently, the sound grating against my skull, and my lips have gone numb, frozen in place. My fingers claw uselessly at the snow, the icy bite of it seeping into my skin, spreading through me like poison. Did Bernadette do this? The thought slams into me, sharp and accusing. I should never have trusted her. I should never have trusted anyone. “You shouldn’t have trusted yourself,” Ravon says, his voice cutting through the howling wind. He stands before me, a dark silhouette against the endless white. I can’t bring myself to look up. My gaze stays fixed on his boots, half-buried in the snow, a mocking reminder of how powerless I am to even lift my head and face him. “What do you want from me?” I wheeze, my voice barely more than a whisper, bu