Ava Galliano: The Last Dark Queen

Three Weeks Later

“I don’t understand why you still want to go through with this. I haven’t spoken to you or seen you in over a thousand years.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Marcus flinched at Isa’s words, the sharpness of her tone sinking deeper than he expected. He quickly masked the hurt with a calm composure, knowing full well that the gap between them was not just time but the weight of past mistakes. It was true—he hadn’t seen Isa in so long because of the painful rejection he’d given her, a choice made in ignorance and pride, one that left scars on both of them.

“We will need to keep up appearances,” he said, his voice steady. “You are royal. We cannot betray a royal command without severe consequences.”

Isa scoffed, rolling her eyes. “What appearances? Isa is dead, and here I am, flouncing around with a new name and a new life. We will do exactly as Lady Priscilla wants, but for what? What’s the point of all this? Maybe I should just leave.”

“And go where?” Marcus countered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We still need to figure out why she sent you here in the first place. You’ve yet to explain how you know that vile woman.”

Isa’s growl was low, almost primal. Marcus raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. The wolf inside Isa had always been unpredictable, but now, it had grown into something dangerous. Something lethal. He was still adjusting to the fierce woman she had become. She was no longer the frail little girl he once found bleeding in that abandoned blood warehouse.

The realization hit Marcus sharply: Isa could kill him with a mere flick of her wrist now. He had no illusions about her power, and he had no intention of testing it.

Isa was silent, her mind racing. She knew why she was here. Charles, the High King, was weak-minded, too easily swayed by a beautiful woman’s charms. When a woman like Lady Priscilla made her move, it was all too easy for someone like Charles to think with his body instead of his brain. But Isa still had no answers as to why Marcus despised Lady Priscilla so deeply.

“Neither have you,” Isa said, her voice colder now.

Marcus avoided her gaze, his fingers still tracing the paper he’d been pretending to read. He could feel her eyes on him, prodding, searching for truths he wasn’t ready to share. As much as he wanted to ignore it, Isa’s presence had an effect on him. The more she stared, the more intense the pull between them became.

His breath caught when their gazes finally locked. For a moment, he saw the woman she’d become, and something deep inside him stirred. She was no longer the innocent girl he once knew. She was a force.

Isa’s frown deepened as she noticed how Marcus seemed to age in her presence. She had been trained to recognize such things, and there was one detail she couldn’t ignore—Marcus hadn’t aged a single day. Vampires were immortal, yes, but their aging slowed over centuries. By now, Marcus should have noticeable grey hair or lines etched across his face. But he looked just as he had when they parted ways—a man untouched by time.

It was unsettling.

As if sensing her thoughts, Marcus looked up from his paper, meeting her gaze. His eyes softened for a fleeting second before the familiar glint of mischief appeared. He stood and walked toward her, his presence looming large in the room.

“Isa.”

He placed a finger gently under her chin, lifting her head so their eyes could meet. Isa’s breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and something darker stirring within her. She stood a few inches shorter than Marcus, and now, looking up at him, she couldn’t deny the magnetic force that drew her in. His scent—the same intoxicating blend of power and danger—hit her all over again, and the realization struck: This was the man who haunted her dreams.

Marcus leaned in closer, their faces only inches apart. His blue eyes darkened, shifting to a deep crimson, the same color they had been the first time she fell under his spell.

Isa’s wolf stirred, her own power awakening beneath her skin. What Marcus didn’t realize was that Isa wasn’t just a werewolf or a vampire—she carried the ancient darkness of her grandfather, a force so powerful that if she ever fully embraced it, she could destroy kingdoms. And right now, it felt as if that power was clawing to get free.

Isa smiled, her eyes slowly turning black as her darkness seeped through her veins. Her aura grew stronger, and Marcus instinctively took a step back, though the pull between them remained. He knew better than to challenge her now.

Her smile widened. “I’m not that frightened little girl anymore, Marcus. I’ve had a thousand years to grow.”

Marcus’s grip tightened around her neck, his fingers brushing against the base of her throat. Isa felt the darkness stir inside her, and her lips parted in a satisfied grin. As her power surged, she reveled in the control, the thrill of it all. She could feel Marcus’s resistance slipping.

For a brief moment, he hesitated. His eyes flicked between her and the power she was exuding, and Isa could see the war within him. Was he afraid? Was he still in control of himself?

She allowed herself a small laugh. "What’s wrong, Marcus? You always wanted to see what I could do."

The tension between them escalated quickly. Isa took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Her fangs flashed in the dim light as she grazed them over his neck. His breath hitched in response, his aura darkening further, and Isa felt a surge of satisfaction as his control started to wane. She leaned in, just as her fangs sank into his neck.

The taste of his blood was intoxicating—hot, thick, and absolutely perfect. Isa moaned softly as she fed, savoring every drop. Marcus’s body shuddered under her touch, but she wasn’t finished yet.

When she pulled away, she could feel his pulse racing beneath her lips. His sad blue eyes met hers, filled with an unreadable mixture of desire and something else—regret?

“Isa, please…” he whispered, voice strained.

Isa licked the blood from her lips, watching him with a sharp gaze. “What’s wrong?”

There was a strange vulnerability in his eyes, and Isa couldn’t tell whether it irritated her or drew her in further. She wanted to push him, to make him give in completely, but there was something in his expression that made her pause.

“Please, not here.”

Isa stepped back, her heart twisting in frustration. She had no idea why it hurt so much to be rejected again, but it did. With a deep sigh, she took a step away, her walls quickly snapping back into place. She wouldn’t let him see how much it stung.

“It’s you who has gone soft,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ll leave now. I’m sure my father is waiting for me, waiting for me to screw all this up. I can already see the disappointment in his eyes. I was right all along. I’m no longer your Luna.”

Marcus’s eyes widened in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

Isa turned toward the door, a cold smile curling on her lips. “I would. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Just as she reached the door, Marcus’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm. The sudden touch, without permission, made her pulse spike. Anger flared in her chest, and with a forceful yank, she wrenched her arm from his grip.

She spun around to scold him, but before she could speak, the space behind her had already gone empty. Marcus had vanished.

Isa blinked in surprise, and when she turned back to the door, he was blocking her way.

She tried to shove him aside, but he retaliated, pushing her into the wall with a sudden, unexpected force. Isa’s pulse quickened, and a thrill ran through her. Now things are getting interesting.

Gone was the soft, regretful man from before. His wolf eyes had disappeared, replaced with the deep crimson she recognized as the dangerous, primal Marcus. His fangs were already flicking out, and Isa felt a shiver race up her spine.

Without a word, she tilted her head to the side, offering him her neck.

Marcus didn’t hesitate. He drove his fangs deep into her, and Isa’s body responded with a shudder, a primal cry of delight escaping her lips as his bite sent waves of pleasure through her body. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him feed.

When he pulled away, Isa took the opportunity to kiss him. She tasted her own blood on his lips, and Marcus moaned, picking her up effortlessly and carrying her to the bed.

Isa wasn’t going anywhere now. Neither of them were.