The candle had burned itself out in the corner.
The last embers in the hearth glowed faintly, casting thin trails of light that flickered over the curved ceiling of the royal bedchamber. Rain whispered outside in steady rhythm, a lullaby I barely heard as I sank deeper into the blankets.
Vilo's warmth at my back was an ever-present weight.
She never slept close. Not usually. When she did, it was on her terms—always composed, always resting like a coiled blade even in slumber. But tonight, she'd fallen asleep beside me, her arm slung across my waist, one wing loosely draped over my legs. Her tail was curled gently around my ankle like a claim.
I drifted off quickly.
And then I talked.
In the haze of sleep, I dreamed of her—again. That voice. That tail. The soft silver of her hair slipping between my fingers. Her legs pinning me in place. Her thighs. Her claws against my chest. Her breath at my ear.
I must've murmured something. Her name, over and over. A sigh. A groan. A whisper shaped like want.
I didn't know.
But she heard everything.
When I opened my eyes the next morning, the sun was rising behind thick curtains, painting the room in dim amber. I stretched once, slowly, and rolled onto my back—
She was sitting up beside me.
Fully dressed.
Arms crossed.
Watching me.
Staring.
I froze.
Her golden eyes narrowed slightly, and she said, "You said things."
My heart leapt into my throat. "…What kind of things?"
She didn't answer immediately. Just studied me for a moment longer, her eyes tracing my face like she was trying to read hidden text.
Then she stood.
She walked to the mirror near the dresser with slow, measured steps. Her robe shimmered with each motion—midnight silk cut to her thighs, tight at the hips, her long legs bare and glistening faintly in the morning light.
She tilted her head.
Lifted one claw.
Flicked her tail.
And said softly, "So you do like the tail."
My soul left my body.
"I—what?" I stammered.
"You repeated it three times."
"No I didn't."
She turned to look at me over her shoulder, expression blank. "You moaned."
"I—"
"Like a dying man in a sauna."
"That's not—!"
"You said my name six times. You said 'tail' three times. You said something about being wrapped up in it like a—what was it? A royal burrito?"
I buried my face in the pillow.
She didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. But her tone was suspiciously smug as she turned back to the mirror, brushing her long silver hair over one shoulder.
"You've never asked to touch it," she said flatly. "You've looked. You've stared. But you've never requested."
"Because you're terrifying."
"You're married to me."
"Yes. And I enjoy not being incinerated."
She didn't respond.
Instead, she stepped closer to the bed, and with one claw, she lifted the blanket from my shoulder and sat beside me again.
Her tail flicked once.
Then twice.
Then slowly wrapped itself around my thigh.
I went completely still.
"You're easier to fluster than a cadet in a brothel," she murmured, gaze cool. "Why?"
"I'm… in awe."
"Of what?"
"You."
She blinked once.
Then tilted her head.
"Explain."
I coughed. "The tail. The… thighs. The way you say things like 'I could kill to this' during a lullaby. The way you smirk with your eyes but never your mouth. The way your chest does this—this thing when you—look, I'm overwhelmed, alright?"
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then laid down beside me, tail still wrapped around my leg. Her face inches from mine.
Her lips parted slightly. "You really like my tail."
"It's elegant," I whispered.
"It's a weapon."
"And a blessing."
"Idiot."
She turned away, her body curling against mine again, her hair brushing my neck as she pulled the blanket over both of us. I reached for the edge, wanting something—anything—to shield my dignity.
The pillow.
I grabbed it and wedged it between us, like a barrier. Her tail flicked.
"I'm creating space," I said quickly.
"Coward."
"It's protective. Neutral territory. A demilitarized zone."
She said nothing.
I closed my eyes, relieved.
Then I felt it.
The pillow shift.
I opened one eye.
It was gone.
She'd moved it.
Again.
I reached for another and tried to rebuild the wall. She didn't stop me.
Not until I'd placed three whole pillows between us, forming a veritable barricade of down and fluff.
I exhaled.
Safe.
Then—shffft.
I opened my eyes to see her tail, snaking underneath the pillow wall and curling around my ankle.
Again.
"Vilo—!"
"You built a wall," she murmured, eyes still closed.
"Yes."
"I have wings, claws, a tail, and magic."
"I was hopeful."
"You're adorable."
I flushed. "Stop saying things like that."
"You'll dream again."
"Maybe."
"I'll listen again."
"Please don't."
"I'm your wife," she said, her voice drifting off like smoke. "Everything you say in sleep belongs to me."
I lay there in silence as her tail curled tighter.
That night, I tried to sleep with the entire comforter bundled between us.
She burned it with a single flick of flame.
And in the morning?
She stared at me again.
And said, "Seven times this time. One new phrase."
I groaned into the sheets.
She smirked.
Almost.