JoyceOrtsen

She's gonna kill the instructor, Alpha," Talon had said. "Or herself. Or both. There's no telling with that one. The sex ed teacher made her do diagrams today."

Apparently, the instructor was relentless. No subtlety. No metaphors. No poetic euphemisms. Nope. Just hard, anatomical facts and brutally graphic expectations.

And Luna? Poor, brave, deeply mortified Luna? She was dying. Every. Single. Day.

Kyllian smirked as he stepped into his quarters. Her scent hit him instantly. He heard a thud upstairs.

He climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to startle her mid-breakdown. 
At the top, he paused, listening.

"…and then she said, if you do not properly stimulate the upper hood of the clitoris—WHAT EVEN IS A CLITORIS HOOD?! Is it a hat? Why does it need a hat?!"

Kyllian barely contained his laughter, biting his knuckles as Talon's voice drifted back.

"Technically, it's a fold of skin. Like a protective flap."

"Oh my GODS, Talon, get out before I break something over your head."

There was a loud thwap. Possibly a throw pillow.

Kyllian finally entered the room, casual as ever. "Sounds like your education is going well."

Luna turned, her eyes wide with righteous fury and embarrassment.

"I'm scarred, Kyllian," she hissed. 
"Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually."

He raised a brow. "That bad, huh?"

"She made me draw a penis yesterday."

Talon snorted behind her. "It was terrible. Looked like a deformed eggplant."

Luna hurled a throw pillow at him. "GET OUT!"

Talon darted from the room with a cackle.

"So," Kyllian said, lounging back in one of the plush velvet armchairs in the sitting room "What did you learn today that has your knickers in a twist?"

Luna, standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed and a deeply offended look on her face, sighed dramatically. "I learned how to perform oral sex."

Kyllian blinked. "I… I beg your pardon?"

She tilted her head, sarcasm oozing from every word. "Oral sex, Kyllian. With detail. And a diagram. And a banana."

"A banana?"

"A banana!" she repeated, throwing her hands in the air. "Like, is that standard procedure?"

Kyllian grinned, his amusement growing. "Come on, tell me how she explained it."

His tone had shifted less teasing now and more intrigued, though he still wore that maddening smirk. He shifted forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees.

Luna narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Why? So you can laugh at me?"

"Absolutely," he said with zero shame. 
"But mostly because I want to see this banana demonstration for myself."

With a dramatic groan, she snatched the nearest banana from the fruit bowl on the coffee table. The irony that it had been sitting right there, mocking her with its yellow smugness, was not lost on her.

She held it up with two fingers. "Okay, so first, she said this is the penis…"

Kyllian held up a finger. "Wait. Did she call it that?"

*****

What happens when a werewolf princess is created for one sole purpose? For revenge against the vampire prince.

Princess Luna is artificially mated to Prince Damien. She fights the bond with everything and even agrees to an arranged marriage with Alpha Kyllian. but when her survival depends on a hard choice, the prince chooses to mark her even when it meant it would take him down.

Dying and still refused by the werewolf princess, he has to find a way to provide an heir for his people or his uncle Gabriel will turn the entire Blood City upside down if he takes the throne.

His people look to him for their own survival but then his only chance of living might be to find his true mate.

Will his bond with Luna be able to withstand what fate and politics throw their way?

The Vampire's Luna

Then, slowly, he turned toward Luna. "Princess," he said, "I need you to take Prince Damien's hand in yours. And please, for the love of everything sacred…do not close your eyes."

Luna, standing at the center of this emotional storm, felt every muscle in her body scream for retreat. Her fingers hesitated midair, and for a brief moment, she considered running.

Damien's hand met hers halfway. As their skin made contact, the crimson thread sprang to life around their wrists.

She could feel him. His pain. His longing. His restraint. He was trying so hard not to look at her.

"I need you to focus on your true feelings for the prince," Veyron instructed, stepping closer, eyes sharp with intensity. "Reach down inside your heart. What does it say?"

Justin Bieber - Ghost