Give My Quadruplets Back, My Luna!

CHAPTER 8

The night of the elite dinner was supposed to be my moment. I spent hours preparing, enduring the maids fussing over every detail—my hair, my makeup, my dress. 

Everything had to be perfect for Xaphen. I told myself that tonight, he would see me—really see me—and maybe even be proud of me for once. It was not simply a wish but a deep desire.

‘What would I do if he, too, began to hate me like Derrick?’

As I stood in front of the mirror, one of the maids smiled softly. "You look stunning, my lady. His Highness won't be able to take his eyes off you."

I gave her a small smile, trying to believe her words. I had done everything right, followed every rule of beauty and grace I'd been taught. 

My gown was a shade of stunning emerald green, and my hair was styled in bouncy waves. Tonight, I wanted to be more than just the wife on paper. I wanted Xaphen to notice me and yearn for me.

When I walked into the dining hall, I scanned the room for him, my heart fluttering anxiously. Xaphen stood near the head of the table, surrounded by several elite guests, most women. His back was to me, and for a moment, I thought maybe he hadn't seen me enter.

I walked up to him, my steps light, feeling confident. But when I reached him, he barely glanced at me. Instead, his attention was on the women around him, all of whom were giggling at something he said.

"Xaphen," I said softly, trying to catch his attention.

He turned to me, his gaze briefly lingering on mine before he looked away. No compliment, no acknowledgment, nothing. He acted as if I wasn't even there.

Frustration welled up in me as I watched him. 

One of the women, a blonde with sparkling eyes, leaned into him, whispering something that made him laugh. The sound of his laughter, so carefree and casual, made my chest tighten with jealousy. 

I couldn't stand there any longer, pretending it didn't bother me.

I excused myself quietly and walked toward the bar, needing something to calm my overwhelming emotions. I ordered a glass of wine and downed it quicker than I intended. 

The liquid burned in my throat, but it dulled the edge of my anger, if only for a moment.

As I sipped my second drink, my gaze kept wandering toward Xaphen, hoping he might come to find me. But he didn't. He was gone. I scanned the room quickly, eyes darting between the guests, but he had disappeared.

A pit formed in my stomach, ‘Are you doing this again?’

My feet moved on their own, carrying me down the hall toward his chambers, dread trailing behind. 

When I reached his room, I hesitated for only a second before pushing the door open. My worst fear was confirmed. Xaphen was inside, and with him was his favorite slave, her body draped over him in a way that made my skin crawl. 

They didn't even notice me standing there for a moment, and when they did, Xaphen didn't even flinch.

"Junia, leave," he commanded as if my presence were nothing more than an inconvenience.

The anger inside me flared, but I didn't say a word. 

I turned on my heel and stormed out, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill―I knew what he’d be doing. I knew there was little hope for our future. But something deep inside me longed for him in a way I could not understand.

Perhaps it was because he was my mate, or perhaps I was finally drowning in the ever-growing emptiness of my heart.

When I arrived back at the party, my hands reached for another drink, then another, the alcohol numbing the pain but filling me with a hollow rage. 

By the time the dinner was over, I could barely stand straight, my head spinning with a mix of anger, sadness, and too much wine. But I wasn't done. I couldn't let this go.

I stumbled toward Xaphen's chambers once the guests had left. He was already there, lounging as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just ignored me in front of everyone and then disrespected me in the worst possible way.

I slammed the door behind me. 

Xaphen’s eyes flickered toward me, mildly amused. "You're drunk."

"Maybe," I snapped, my voice shaking with a mix of alcohol and fury. "But that doesn't mean I don't know what you did. How could you treat me like that tonight?"

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "What did I do, exactly?"

"You flirted with those women all night, ignored me, then disappeared to… to sleep with that slave," I pointed out. "I'm your wife, Xaphen."

He shrugged, completely indifferent. "I stated the obvious. I wasn't interested in talking to you because you're boring. As for the slave, well, at least she knows how to keep me entertained."

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to slap him. "How can you say that to me? Do you even care how much you're hurting me?"

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You're always acting like the victim, Junia. Always so dramatic. I elevated you, remember? From an orphan to the queen of this kingdom. You should be grateful."

My jaw tightened as he threw those words at me. "Grateful? You think that gives you the right to humiliate me whenever you want?"

He narrowed his eyes, inching closer. "And what exactly can you do about it?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. What could I do? He held all the power here. 

When he took another step towards me, I backed up instinctively, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward him. His minty breath fanned my skin as our faces were inches away. "You won't do anything, Junia. Because deep down, you know I'm right. And you are nothing."

I pulled away, tears gathering in my eyes. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There you go again, playing the victim. Do you ever stop?"

I felt the tears spill over, and before I could stop myself, I slapped him hard across the face. My hand stung from the impact, and I immediately backed away, fear coursing through me. 

I half-expected him to retaliate, to strike me down in anger.

But instead, something shifted in his expression. His pupils constricted, but not with anger—with something else—something dangerous. His lips curled into a smirk, his gaze now locked on mine with a hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, his voice sultry and thick with lust.

I froze, my heart beating. "Xaphen, don't—"

But he didn't listen. He reached for me again, his hand cupping my face, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw. This time, when he kissed me, it was different. There was no coldness, no distance. 

It was deep and demanding, his lips thirsty for more as he pushed me back toward the bed.

I tried to push him away, but my body fought me, my mind drowning from the intensity of his kiss. His hands were already on the straps of my dress, pulling them down slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second of control.

"Stop," I whispered, my voice weak even to my ears. But he ignored me, his lips moving to my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

My body shivered under his touch, torn between the anger still burning in my chest and the lust for passion. 

He finally pulled away, his eyes locking with mine. "You can pretend to hate me all you want, Junia. But we both know you need this."

I wanted to scream, to protest, to tell him he was wrong. But I couldn't. Because deep down, part of me knew that he was right.

And that realization was worse than anything he could ever say.