Semua Bab The Luna's Groom: Bab 21 - Bab 30

E L E A N O R I rub my forehead with a groan, my gaze colliding with a small group of maids who are staring at me like I’ve grown two heads. Although none of them say a word, their expressions are telling. I must’ve had another one of those nightmares—the kind that come with dramatic thrashing and muffled screams. One of them steps forward with obvious reluctance. “Grand Luna Margaret ordered us to get you dressed and bring you to the courtyard.” So the training continues. Of course it does. Not even sleep offers me refuge anymore. There’s no solace in dreams when reality is far more cruel. Ever since Tobias died, peace has abandoned me completely. Nothing has made life feel worth living—except Marina. Protecting her is the only reason I haven’t completely unraveled. “Tell her I want Marina,” I mutter, voice low and rough as gravel. “The rest of you can leave.” “Who’s Marina?” one of them squeaks, her brows pinched together in confusion. “My werewolf maid,” I reply, using the co

P E R S E U S "Beersheba doesn’t like multiple visitors. She’d think it’s an ambush," I say to Hakim as we cross the narrow bridge suspended over misty waters, the one that leads directly to the Serpent Goddess’s hidden temple. Fabian had no doubt overestimated Beersheba’s power. I’ve been to her temple before. She had a habit—no, a twisted obsession—with disguising her dwelling to mimic various forms. It was a trick she perfected to lure in her prey—men, mostly—whom she devoured not through brute force, but through seduction. Beersheba is believed to be the first succubus to break free from her kind, after a feud with her sister that history never recorded, a mystery lost to time. When I found her temple, it had taken the form of a modest inn. I was injured from the war and desperate for a place to rest. Back then, she had disguised herself as a charming innkeeper. Strangely enough, we’d built a fragile rapport. It never blossomed into anything more—at least, not from my end. Our

E L E A N O R There’s a brief deliberation in my mind as I try to process what I’m feeling. I’m unsure whether I should be relieved that he’s here, frightened by the raw intensity of the rage in his eyes, or simply numb to it all. The man holding me lets go of my arms, and I rip the headless body off of me, the blood soaking through my clothes as I sit up, my head pounding with an ache that makes everything seem surreal. In the blink of an eye, Perseus drops his sword onto the bed, his movements quick and precise as he shoves the man to the wall, pinning him there with one hand clamped around his neck. With the other, he retracts his claw and slips it into the man’s chest, pulling out his heart with a cold, practiced motion. He tosses it carelessly at Margaret’s feet, her shocked squeak piercing the silence as she freezes in place, unable to move from her seat. I can’t tear my eyes away from the man’s heart, still pumping with life as it falls to the floor. The body crumples shortl

P E R S E U SI couldn't guarantee that I wouldn’t leave her again—not when the shattered pieces of Ravon’s Blade are still scattered across the Earth like cursed relics waiting to be found. My duty demanded my loyalty, my blood, and often, my absence. But my wife... my wife needed me. And I wasn’t there.Guilt had wrapped its hands around my throat the moment I found out she was in danger—getting hurt—and I hadn’t known. I hadn’t felt it. The silence between our bond had never been louder than in that moment. I had barely crossed the castle gates when a maid collapsed at my feet, her body trembling and her eyes wild. “My name is Anna,” she gasped between sobs, clutching at my trousers. “Thank the stars you’re here. I was going to get help. They’ll kill her—your wife—they’ll kill her if you don’t do something.”I had doubted Beersheba partially, until I heard the screams. The kind that shattered glass and clawed at your bones. They reverberated through the entire palace, thick with ag

E L E A N O RI sit on the edge of the bed after placing the tray carefully on the bedside table, the silence in the room wrapping itself around me like a heavy cloak, forcing me to face my thoughts.He’s here.Not a figment of some fleeting dream I’d jolt awake from, not a cruel flicker of memory my heart replays just to torment me—he’s here. Perseus is lying on the bed, barely a foot away, asleep on his back, his breathing calm and rhythmic. He looks so at peace, almost boyishly innocent, nothing like the man who’d painted the night red just hours ago.I’m tempted: so tempted to reach out and tuck a few stray strands of hair behind his ear. But I bite down on my lower lip, forcing myself to stay still. My fingers graze over my lips instead, recalling how his had felt against mine. That kiss. The way it had ignited something deep within me. The kind of kiss that makes your stomach flutter and twist with hunger. Hunger for more. More of him.The only man I’ve ever kissed before this w