The sound of boots against marble echoed before the door flung open with a violent crack. Damiano stepped in, his gaze sharp and burning like hellfire.
Luna, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, froze. She barely had time to stand before his hand clamped around her throat, forcing her back onto the mattress.
"You think this is a sanctuary?" His voice was low, deadly. "No, little girl. This is my kingdom. And you…" he leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear, "you belong to me."
Her hands clawed at his wrist, gasping for air. "Please…"
He smirked at her struggle, pressing harder until tears welled in her stormy grey eyes. "Pathetic. Do you even know what men like me do to girls like you?"
With a violent tug, he ripped the sleeve of her dress, exposing her shoulder. His eyes lingered there, dark and possessive, before he lowered his mouth as though he might mark her. Luna turned her face away, trembling.
For a terrifying heartbeat, she thought he would take everything from her right there.
But just as his lips grazed her skin, he stopped. His muscles tensed, his grip faltered. Something in her eyes that same defiant innocence, that maddening purity pulled him back from the edge.
He growled and shoved her down hard, her back hitting the mattress with a painful thud. She whimpered, clutching at the torn fabric.
"You're nothing but a vile curse," he spat, though his uneven breathing betrayed the conflict inside him. "Don't ever think you're safe. Next time… I won't stop."
He stormed out, slamming the door so violently the walls trembled.
Alone, Luna curled into herself, her body shaking from both fear and rage. She pressed her hands against the bruises forming on her neck, willing them to heal… but once again, they refused.
Her reflection in the mirror glared back at her stormy, broken, yet still unyielding.
"Why can't I heal from him?" she whispered through tears. "Why him?"
And deep in her chest, a darkness stirred the first spark of something far greater than fear.