The moon was full.
And restless.
Its pale light cut through the high windows of the royal chamber, slicing across silk sheets, patterned marble, and the faint curve of Vilo's bare thigh where the covers had fallen away.
She wasn't sleeping.
She was thrashing.
Her wings twitched against the mattress, slow and sharp, like a muscle memory she couldn't suppress. Her claws flexed in the air, clenching and unclenching as faint sparks of heat shimmered around her fingertips. Magic pulsed just beneath her skin, glowing dimly in her veins—a soft molten gold, fading in and out like a heartbeat.
I woke to the rustle of scales and the scent of rising heat in the room.
"Vilo?" I murmured.
She didn't answer.
She turned suddenly, face half-buried in her pillow, her tail lashing once in the air before curling around my ankle like a vice. Her body was flushed with heat, sweat beading on her collarbones, her breath ragged.
Then, without warning, she grabbed me.
One hand on my chest, one clawed arm around my back, she yanked me into her with terrifying force. My face landed against her neck, and I could feel the burning heat rising from her skin like fire through cloth.
"Too hot…" she muttered, voice rough, almost snarling.
I tried to move—tried to adjust, thinking she might be in pain—but she clamped tighter, her thighs locking around one of mine. Her tail snaked between my legs, then up my back, curling once, twice, three times.
She was trembling.
Not from fear.
From need.
"Vilo," I whispered, brushing hair from her face. "What's happening?"
She didn't answer. Not directly.
Instead, her eyes fluttered open, bright with gold and rimmed in shadows. She stared at me for a long moment. Then she ground her body slowly against mine, her hips shifting beneath the sheets, her scales slick with sweat and magic.
"Help me," she growled, voice low and desperate.
I blinked. "W-what?"
Her tail jerked sharply, dragging me up her body and over her. I felt the full weight of her beneath me—muscle, curves, fire. Her wings spread across the bed, massive and twitching, casting long shadows against the walls as the moonlight caught their edges.
"You're my husband," she hissed, hot breath against my throat. "This is your duty."
I stared down at her, heart pounding, mind racing. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her boobs pressed flush against me—heavy, warm, and soft despite the scaled ridges that crowned them. Her legs shifted beneath me, thighs tensing as she arched her back.
"You're burning up," I said, concerned. "Are you sure this is—"
"Obey me."
Her voice cracked like a whip.
I froze.
Then she grabbed my collar in both hands and ripped.
Cloth tore.
She glared up at me, eyes sharp as daggers, body pulsing with raw power. Her thighs locked tighter, pulling me down, grinding me harder against her as her claws traced down my bare back with just enough pressure to warn.
"If you won't help," she growled, "I'll make you."
I swallowed hard.
There was no mistaking it now. The full moon had triggered something in her—some draconic heat, some primal force buried deep in her bloodline. She was overwhelmed, half-feral, but still Vilo. Still cold. Still dominant.
Still utterly, completely in control.
Even in need.
Even when trembling.
She wasn't begging.
She was commanding.
I braced my hands on either side of her, trying to keep my head, trying not to lose myself in the rhythm of her hips against mine, or the way her thighs squeezed with every shift of breath. Her tail looped again around my waist, dragging me closer until I was fully against her, chest to chest, hip to hip.
"Don't make me say it again," she whispered into my ear.
"You're really bad at flirting," I murmured.
She bit my shoulder.
Not hard.
Just enough.
"I'm not flirting. I'm claiming what's mine."
I didn't argue after that.
Not when her thighs tightened.
Not when her tail flexed with slow dominance.
Not when she kissed me like she was still at war.
The moonlight poured across her body, highlighting every muscle, every curve, every drop of sweat clinging to her chest. Her wings curled down, draping the bed in shadows and warmth. I let myself sink into her, skin to skin, breath to breath, as her claws wrapped around my back and pulled me deeper into the heat.
And through it all, she never once lost that commanding presence.
Even as her breath caught.
Even as her body trembled beneath me.
Even as she arched her back and whispered, just once, "Good."
She didn't say thank you.
She didn't coo or soften.
She simply held me.
Wrapped in wings. Bound in tail. Pressed between thighs that refused to let go.
When it was over, her voice was quiet.
"Next time," she said, "you'll be waiting when I return. No more hesitation."
"…Yes, Your Majesty."
Her tail twitched once.
Then she smiled—just barely.
And pulled me into sleep against her chest.