"I don't know how it works in the werewolf kingdom," Damien began with a mischievous smirk, "but you are supposed to give me your hand so I can, you know, put the ring on it."
Luna's eyes widened as she let out a short laugh. "Oh… right." She giggled.
Still laughing, she handed him her fingers, dainty but strong.
He took her hand with reverence, sliding the ring onto her finger. "This was my mother's ring," he murmured. "It's been in the family for ages."
Luna stared at it, transfixed. The ring sparkled.
"I love it," she whispered, her gaze lifting back to his eyes. "I love you."
Damien answered the only way that made sense—he kissed her. No words, just the meeting of lips, of souls that had circled each other across kingdoms, species, bloodlines and magic. On their knees, there was no prince or princess, no vampire or werewolf—just two fools in love, clinging to a moment of impossible happiness.
