Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 108

Chapter 108

Exhaustion finally dragged me under just before dawn.

It wasn’t real sleep. It was that heavy, numb state where your body shuts down while your mind keeps bleeding. I collapsed onto the bed still dressed, surrounded by maps, reports.

Every second without Emily felt wrong. It was like part of my soul had been ripped out and left somewhere in

those cursed mountains.

I barely remembered closing my eyes. Then, Asher exploded inside my head.

Something’s wrong.

I jerked awake. A sharp pain tore through the center of my chest. I slammed my hand against the mattress, trying

to steady myself.

The mate bond.

Something was happening to it. It wasn’t breaking–it was being invaded. It felt like someone had shoved their

hands into something sacred and started twisting. A foreign presence brushed violently against the connection I

had with Emily.

Claiming. Marking.

Asher roared so loudly my ears rang. “He touched her.”

The fury that hit me wasn’t human. I doubled over on the edge of the bed, breathing hard while claws tore

halfway through my palms.

Somewhere far away, through the tiny gap left in our bond, I felt her emotions–confused, overwhelmed, and lost. And underneath it all, another scent tangled through our connection.

Male. Possessive. Wrong.

Asher went feral. “I’ll kill him. I’ll find him and make him dead.”

A broken, animal sound tore from my throat. “No…”

It didn’t even sound like me. My chest felt like it was being shredded from the inside out. Someone had marked her. Someone had put their filthy claim on my mate.

Rage detonated in my blood. I partially shifted before I could stop it. My bones popped and cracked, and black laws tore through my skin as Asher fought for control.

The bedroom door burst open. Marcus froze the second he saw me.

“Nathan–what the hell happened?”

J

1:18 pm P PTM.

gripped the bedframe so hard the wood snapped like a twig. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to run into

the mountains and slaughter every rogue between me and Emily.

15

Emily’s POV

Cindy brought the dress just before sunset.

It was deep crimson silk. It was the kind of thing designed to be admired rather than actually worn. The fabric

clung to me, and the neckline sat low enough to show off the fresh mark right below my silver collar.

I stared at my reflection, the discomfort growing. I didn’t look like a prisoner anymore. I looked like a prize.

Cindy stood behind me, pulling my white hair into an elegant twist. She made sure that silver collar my neck was completely exposed.

The mark. It was always about the mark.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I muttered.

Cindy’s hands paused for a beat before she went back to work. “You look beautiful.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

I let out a sharp breath. “Why do you keep defending him?”

Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “Because I know him”

“There it is again.” I turned to face her. “Every time you talk about Declan, your voice changes.”

It was softer. More personal.

Cindy looked away immediately. Her fingers went to the ribbon tied around her throat, brushing the fabric unconsciously. I didn’t miss the movement.

“What is that thing?” I asked quietly. “The ribbon.”

Her entire body went rigid. For a second, real panic flashed in her eyes before she buried it.

“My lips are sealed,” she whispered.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I stared at the ribbon, the pieces finally clicking together.

“A sealing spell.”

Cindy didn’t say a word, which was all the confirmation I needed.

ľ

Everyone in this castle was trapped. Some wore collars, some wore ribbons, and some wore crowns. It didn’t matter what you called it–we were all just property.

:18 pm P PTM.

Night had fully taken over by the time we reached the ritual grounds.

A cold mountain wind swept through the courtyard, making the torches flicker against the black stone walls.

Above us, heavy clouds moved slowly, barely hiding the moon.

The ritual platform looked different. Last time, it felt like a place for an execution. Tonight, it looked royal. Silver

candles surrounded the circle, and thick black furs covered the stone floor.

I stared at it. “Well,” I muttered. “At least I won’t crack my head open on the floor this time.”

Cindy almost smiled, but my focus shifted.

Declan was sitting across the platform like he already owned everything he could see.

He looked young, powerful, and beautiful. His dark clothes fit him perfectly, showing off the hard muscle of his shoulders. Silver dagger with a red ruby as he rested his arm over the back of his chair.

The second his eyes landed on me. I hated myself for it. I hated that I reacted to him at all, but I couldn’t stop it.

Declan noticed. A slow, arrogant smile spread across his face as his gaze moved openly down my body, taking in

he red silk.

“There’s my future Queen,” he said.

The rogues around us broke into cheers and whistles. My stomach twisted. The problem wasn’t fear–the problem was that my body was responding to him like he was the only thing that mattered.

Declan stood up and walked to me. Every rogue lowered their head as he passed. He wasn’t a son anymore. He

was a Rogue King.

He stopped right beside me and put his hand on the small of my back. The touch sent another jolt through me.

“My father ruled through fear,” Declan shouted, his voice echoing across the courtyard, “And look where that got him. Silas was strong, but strength without control is just a weakness.”

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