Blood Awakening: The Strongest Hybrid and His Vampire Bride-Chapter 340: Luna (II)

The room stilled again.

Kumiko did not rush. She did not speak.

Instead, she walked slowly, gracefully, every step a whisper of tradition and tenderness. As though her presence alone completed the ritual, she moved like the hush before falling snow.

She kept her veil on until the last moment. Then, as she stopped before him, she knelt.

Her voice was like a mountain stream—soft, clear, but carrying weight beneath the surface.

"My heart has always been quiet," she said. "But when I met you, it began to speak."

Kumiko looked up at him, golden eyes shining like lanterns in fog.

"You never needed me to shout, to compete, to dazzle. You simply… saw me. Cherished me. As I am."

She rose, her fingers brushing against his hand, warm, delicate, certain.

"I do not have great words. Or fire. Or thunder. But what I have is a love that will never waver. A soul that has chosen you in silence… and will choose you again in every lifetime."

She bowed deep and long. Her knees met the ground. Her palms pressed flat before her. A dogeza, pristine and unflinching.

A symbol of reverence. Of surrender. Of love.

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The audience had barely begun to murmur when the next figure stepped forward—hesitantly.

Lunaria.

She almost tripped on her gown, clutching it awkwardly as her cheeks bloomed with shy pink. Her white hair spilt over her shoulders in silky waves, her silver eyes wide and uncertain. Once a red-haired girl with a fragile smile, now reborn into power and elegance, she hadn't yet grown into it.

She stood before him, hands clenched, veil forgotten, eyes glued to his chest rather than his gaze.

"I… I don't know if I belong here," she whispered. "I'm not like the others. Not strong like Selene. Not wild like Risa. Not wise or graceful."

Her voice trembled, but she didn't retreat.

"I met you when we were children. You were so kind to me. So patient. Even when I was nothing but a shadow. You remembered me… when no one else did."

Tears welled, but she smiled through them, a soft thing trying to be brave.

"You gave me a new body. A new chance. You made me feel like I could matter. Like I could be seen. And every time you looked at me… I wanted to be worthy of that gaze."

She stepped closer, just a little.

"I love you. I always have. Even if my heart was too small to understand it. Even if I'm not enough… I will try. Always. To be someone you can love back."

And with that, she bowed—not perfectly, not practised—but honestly. Earnestly.

The black thread pulsed between them like a fragile heartbeat.

Then… the silence shifted.

Something slithered beneath the moment. A presence. A perfume. A danger.

Amphitrite.

The crowd parted, not out of respect, but instinct. As if every man and woman there felt the ripple in the air, the suggestion of something that once devoured kings beneath the waves.

She did not walk. She sauntered. Barefoot. Veil discarded. Her long, pink hair tumbled like sea foam behind her, her scales glinting faintly beneath candlelight. Her body curved like poetry left unwritten—lush, shameless, unapologetic.

She stopped a pace from him and smiled. Lips like sin. Eyes like the abyss.

"Patriarch," she purred, her voice thick with honey and hunger. "Shall I kneel like the others? Or have I knelt enough for one lifetime?"

Gasps danced on the edges of the crowd.

Amphitrite only tilted her head, exposing the gills on her neck, the shimmer of her scales. Her smile widened, baring just enough fang to thrill or frighten.

"You found me at the bottom of the world," she said. "Chained. Starved. Forgotten. You gave me death, and then… you gave me rebirth."

She ran her fingers down her own thigh, tracing the curve as though it were a lover's cheek.

"You could have left me there. But instead, you gave me this body. This chance. You gave me freedom."

She stepped closer—too close—her breath brushing his lips.

"And in return, I give you this—my heart, dark and deep as the trench I rose from. And my love, which no god, no elder, no force of nature will ever tear from your side."

She kissed the black thread connecting them.

"And I'll never let you go. Not in this life. Not the next."

And just like that, she turned her back on the crowd and slithered to the side, like a serpent who knew the altar was already hers.

***

Six women stood beside Nikolai, connected by the threads of thought only available to one. Four threads of burned crimson, two raven black. The circle of fate had been drawn, and the hall's air became settled—only awe and silence remained.

Until at last, Ivan Volkov spoke once more, his gaze scanning over the group.

"Then it is done," the old wolf said, voice thick with ritual. "The Patriarch has chosen, and the Luna's bond has been confirmed."

Ivan then turned to Nikolai, a strange smile on his face. Nikolai watched his father's eyes, filled with pride and happiness, as he winked.

"From this day forward, you are not one. But many. You are the heart, claw, and crown. You are Volkov."

Even with those who found it bizarre to have multiple Lunas started to celebrate.

Low howls rose from the elders, then the family and finally the visitors.

And the ceremony came to an end.

"Now, would the new patriarch and his Luna please enter the chamber of promise."

To the clan, this ceremony ended when they confirmed the connection between the group. This was not only the ceremony to confirm their next patriarch's future. But also the ancient form of marriage between two werewolves.

"It's amazing that not a single woman refused the imprinting..." a voice muttered on the way out.

"I don't think I could accept it."

Nikolai finally released a long breath, stepping into the chamber behind the praying altar and stage.

However, before passing the door, his father's voice came from behind, causing him to freeze.

"Let us speak tomorrow about your grandfather and what to do from here, you are now our leader, so enjoy the final part of the ceremony with your Luna."

"Thanks, Dad... I'll try," he responded, a little overwhelmed.

The laughter of his father echoed as he stepped inside.

The door shut with a muted click behind him.

Silence settled—warm, heavy. The ceremony was over. Applause faded into distant echoes. Nikolai stood still for a moment, letting the hush press against his skin like steam.

The chamber was dim, lit by soft amber lamps and the flicker of candlelight. Velvet curtains hung across the far wall, a bed low to the ground sat in the corner, wide enough for more than one. Two plush sofas faced each other in the centre, a table between them weighed down with chilled blood wine, crystal glasses, and a silver tray of fruits and sweets. A small kitchenette hummed quietly in the corner, untouched.

He exhaled, rolling his neck. His shoulders ached. His jaw was tight. The weight of titles, names, eyes—all of it—still clung to him.

He reached for a glass.

A knock, soft as a breath, came at the door.

He turned.

It opened a crack. White hair. Silver eyes.

Lunaria stood in the gap, hands fidgeting with her gown. She didn't speak.

Neither did he.

She stepped in without a word, quietly closing the door behind her.

"I still don't think..." she spoke with a quiet and delicate voice, slowly stepping closer to Nikolai, wearing her ceremonial robe. "That I am worthy of this kind of thing..."

Nikolai turned back and met Lunaria halfway, his hands resting on her shoulders. "It's in your name, of course you are worthy."

"...was that a joke?" Her silver eyes shimmered, gazing up at him.

"Haha... sorry, I am nervous too."

Lunaria's hands stretched out, brushing his clothes as if testing their boundaries.

She remembered their kiss and her aggressive actions, and her cheeks turned red while hugging his waist. "Mm... this feels strange, I always dreamt of such a moment."

"Well, it's happened. We can't go back, and I don't want to let you." Nikolai's hands brushed her cheeks, his face lowering as she stood on her tiptoes.

Their lips barely touched, a soft kiss, when suddenly...

The door opened with a violent burst of air and closed almost instantly. Click.

Nikolai turned his head—but he already knew who it was.

Amphitrite didn't wait for an invitation.

She walked in barefoot, her ceremonial robe slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the shimmer of scaled skin beneath. Her presence filled the room like perfume, heavy and intoxicating. There was no hesitation in her movements. No shame. No modesty.

Just her.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to drag you both into bed myself," she teased, voice low and velvet-thick.

Lunaria stiffened in Nikolai's arms.

Amphitrite smiled at the reaction but didn't apologise. She stepped closer—every sway of her hips deliberate, every breath a challenge to Nikolai's willpower.

Then, without asking, she slipped her arms around Nikolai from behind, pressing herself to his back. Her cheek rested between his shoulder blades, her long pink hair tumbling across both their bodies.

"Warm," she murmured. "Finally. After all that frozen pretending."

Lunaria blinked, caught between shock and flustered confusion. She didn't move away, though. Not yet.

Amphitrite leaned around Nikolai's side to look Lunaria straight in the eye. Her smile was slow, not unkind, but undeniably wicked.

"Don't worry, little moon," she said. "You don't have to fight me for him. I bite, but not unless asked."

"Amphi…" Nikolai sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"What?" she pouted. "I didn't lick him—yet."

Lunaria made a small, strangled noise and buried her face in Nikolai's chest. He chuckled helplessly.

But Amphitrite didn't laugh. Her arms tightened a little, her chin lifting just enough to kiss the side of his neck.

"…You gave me back my life," she whispered, voice suddenly different. Still deep. Still seductive. But under it, something real. Fragile. "You gave me more than I knew how to want. Let me be shameless, Nikolai. I've been quiet for too long."

He reached back, resting a hand against her hip. Not pushing her away. Just… grounding her.

"Alright," he murmured. "But don't tease the others too much, how could they beat someone like you..."

"No promises," she said, grinning again, though her eyes shimmered faintly as if holding something deeper behind the smile.

This time, the door didn't open. Instead, someone knocked. Knock!

"It's open~"

Nikolai glared at Amphitrite, who called out, but he sighed, rubbing Lunaria's back.

"Come in."