The moonlight draped the Academy’s gardens in a soft glow, casting long shadows against the stone paths and highlighting the pale midnight blossom of the violet willows on the eastern side. Mira stood by the ornate doors of the academy’s private dining room, her hands nervously smoothing down the hem of her dress. It wasn’t her best dress, but it was thin and attractive, layered like petals to fit her trim, petite figure.


    Tonight was the night she had agreed to spend with Shamine, and although she had kept the conversation casual since he’d first extended to invitation, now, as the evening loomed before her, her thoughts were anything but. He swore it wasn’t a date, so why did it feel like it was? They were blooming friends, perhaps close friends, but nothing more. He had an eye for detail and kept strong connections. That was all this was about, truly, she tried to convince herself, but the nagging in the back of her head insisted it was more. Or maybe, she hoped that it would be more.


    Shamine greeted her with a smile that could light up a room, his eyes glinting with the promise of the same kindness he’d extended the last two days. It was the sort of authentic compassion she’d rarely seen in the priestesses and even less often from teachers. “Mira,” he said, extending his arm for her to take. “Shall we? The night awaits us, and you make it lovelier already.”


    She hesitated only for a moment before slipping her hand into his, allowing him to lead her through the lush garden and toward the secluded area he had arranged for them. She kept close to his side, breathing in the musky, earthen scent drifting from him. Never had she met a sun elf, their kind practically erased by flippant breeding practices, but if she closed her eyes, she could have imagined Shamine with the traditional long pointed ears and gold eyes. Maybe he would have even inherited silver feathered wings instead of the bare webbed dragon wings he rarely showed off.


    Mira pressed her lips into a line, wondering why he kept such a thing to himself. Was he ashamed? His sister was revered for the strength she inherited from their fractured inheritance; her talons and tail were vastly superior to many other partial dragons. Surely Shamine was gifted with flight… but then no one had ever seen it. Her heart sank at the thought that perhaps his inheritance might have been more vestigial than functional. That was always a risk. A generation of partial shifters that would eventually lose their inheritance all together.


    As they came to the far end of the garden where the trees sagged low, Shamine brushed back the tangled reed like strings of blossoms of the willow. The atmosphere was nothing short of intimate, just the two of them beneath the heavy cloak of night, with only the sounds of crickets and the rustling leaves to keep them company. Before them was a modest spread of delicate foods and a bottle of fine fae wine—a rare and expensive treat from the southern edges of Seralena, the last lands dedicated to the pure fae.


    Together they sat, comfortable on the spread blanket and eating the fruits and charcuterie Shamine had provided. The night had started innocently enough, Mira’s nerves waning as he poured her a small glass of wine. Conversation was easy between them, sparking naturally and flowing without the slightest interruption or uncomfortable pause. They discussed the year ahead—how quickly the time had passed, how much they still had to learn, how many more battles awaited them as they strived for honors and recognition to take home to their kingdoms.


    Mira giggled to herself, finding herself enjoying the conversation. Something about the ease between them made her feel less guarded. Or maybe it was the wine. Regardless, Shamine was a natural companion. He always had more to say, something to ask, and he listened intently. His words flowed effortlessly when he fell into a story, and for a while, she even forgot about her royal duties. For once, it was easy to just be Mira, not the Queen of Styxis.


    But soon, their banter took a turn.


    Shamine leaned closer to her as they spoke, his voice lowering, almost hushed, as though he wanted to share a secret. “You know, Mira, I’ve always admired how you’ve handled everything. The weight of your responsibilities—no one could do it with as much grace as you. And gods know how hard it must have been to walk among all your people and us, knowing who you are but never being seen as yourself. I can’t help but admire the strength to endure every day, shrouded in such misdirection. You impress me beyond words.”


    Her pulse quickened, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. She smiled, grateful for his compliment, but as he spoke, there was something else in his voice, something… deeper. There, in the gravel and rasp of his hushed words, was an unspoken invitation. She couldn’t ignore the way his eyes lingered on her, how his fingertips brushed lightly against her wrist when he passed her another glass of wine. His touch was careful, almost teasing, but it sent a strange shiver down her spine.


    Her chest tightened, breath growing shallow, but she dismissed the feeling. It’s just Shamine, she reminded herself. Just a casual date, getting to know each other, and nothing more. It’s just the ‘urgency’, and that can be dealt with later.


    As the evening wore on, his advances grew bolder, his proximity to her increasing in ways she didn’t quite recognize until his breath swept warm over her neck, and he brushed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear. He leaned in once again, his lips just inches from her ear. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like,” he murmured softly, “to kiss someone with as much beauty as you. To feel the weight of a woman so perfect beneath my lips and held in my arms.” His hand smoothed down from her shoulders to her hands, taking them in his and raising them to his lips. With cautious ease, he placed a soft kiss to her fingers. “I can only imagine how sweet, indeed, it would be to have such a rare pleasure.”


    Mira felt her heart skip a beat. She wanted to pull away, to put some distance between them, but something inside her… something primal… urged her not to. His words, his proximity, his touch—they were all intoxicating, drawing her in with a force she couldn’t resist. Her head spun with the wine, and every scent of the midnight blossoms and cool night air had her nerves igniting with excitement.


    Shamine, sensing her hesitation and wandering enchantment, seized the opportunity. He cupped her chin gently, guiding her face to meet his. “I’ve been wanting to do this all evening,” he said, before his lips brushed lightly against hers.


    It was just a kiss, a soft press of lips, but the moment their mouths met, something inside her snapped. Her body reacted before her mind had time to protest. Her hand flew to his cheek, then slid to his hair, instinctively threading through and pulling herself closer. The kiss deepened as she found herself leaning into him, a soft moan passing between them as a carnal hunger swelled. Shamine’s hands slid to her back, pressing her against him with a possessive force that made her pulse race even faster. Her hand slid down his chest, eager, ready. She would accept him right there if he let her and if he dared make one move further.


    Then, as quickly as it had begun, he pulled away, eyes dark with something unreadable. “I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, his voice thick with restraint and remorse. He certainly didn’t want this to be where it ended. “I wouldn’t want to take any advantage of you, dearest Mira.”


    She blinked, dizzy from the kiss, from the way her body burned for more. She was flushed, her skin humming with need, but she could feel the restraint in his touch, the shiver of forced withdrawal that not even he truly wanted, the careful distance he still tried to maintain out of utmost respect. He was a good man, wanting only to do what was right despite the yearning of his heart. A desire he’d kept so well hidden, she’d not even noticed until tonight.


    “Shamine,” she whispered, her breath shallow and hands trembling. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I wish… I wish you wouldn’t have stopped.”


    He looked at her, that familiar, smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re just overwhelmed, Mira. It happens to the best of us.” He offered his own shaking hands to take hers and lightly kissed her forehead. “When love first blooms, it often is fast to open and slow to reach its widest beauty. Perhaps,” his voice lowered into a sweet and comfortable register, “this was simply that blossom opening.”


    <hr>


    The walk back to her dormitory felt like an eternity. Her mind spun, still reeling from the kiss, from the way her body yearned for more. What is wrong with me?


    She slipped inside her room, her hands trembling slightly as she closed the door behind her. There had never been a time when any of the guards she’d indulged in had made her quiver the way Shamine had with nothing more than a kiss. Sure, it hadn’t been as chaste as it should have been, but it wasn’t as though she’d never been kissed by a man that way. In more ways. But something about the way he kissed her was different.


    Mira made her way to the bed, her skin still flush with desire, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Every nerve had been set alight, and the only thing she could think about was the what-ifs. What if they hadn’t stopped? What if she had allowed him in the quiet of the garden, ravish her beneath moon and midnight blossoms? Would he have gone through with it, or was he too bound by honor like all the other Tallus men she’d ever met?


    Stolen story; please report.


    No, this is ridiculous, she thought. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. I’ve been trained to be a queen, not some… creature of lust. Not something like H—him.


    She shut her eyes tight, pushing back the thought and name she too often returned to like a desperate child clinging to a blanket. But the sensation was undeniable. It pulsed through her like wildfire, her body aching for more. There would be no peace until she satisfied it, and that was an indelible truth about the matter.


    She quickly discarded her clothes, wriggling free from the gossamer layers and thin silky under layers, the cool air of the room doing little to quell the heat that had taken hold of her. If anything, it encouraged her more, prickling her skin. Her back arched as another surge of desire rolled through her. Every thought curled back around to Shamine, to the way his mouth tasted and the aroma of his skin. It was too much. Her fingers wandered, almost instinctively, seeking release between her thighs.


    The pressure intensified as she reached lower, rubbing her clit and sliding her fingertips in where the heat and dampness had become a burning flood of need, her thoughts clouded by the overwhelming desire to feel something. Something Ysara had encouraged and still cast judgment over. Something she could have if she truly wanted it with little more than a whispered plea. She moved with urgency, her body burning for satisfaction, each wave of pleasure only feeding the next. She could have what she needed if she asked him.


    In a flash, every thought of Shamine vanished and come into its place, Haros. His breath tracing up her legs, and his mouth coming over her sodden core.


    Mira’s head fell back as she gasped, her breathing erratic as she finally tumbled into release, collapsing against the sheets, panting and gulping for one decent breath. And though she stared at the ceiling, the only other thing in her head was that smile—that smirk full of arrogance and certainty that could not have belonged to anyone else. She threw her arm over her face, groaning as the image faded.


    Then came a sharp rap at the door, startling her upright and swinging her sheet over her chest. Who the hell had come by at this hour?


    <hr>


    Haros stood outside Mira’s door—leaned against it, to be more precise—one arm folded beneath his forehead and the other clutching the door frame. His hand hovered for a moment before he knocked and pushed himself back in a staggered step. He hadn’t planned on coming here. He had no intention of disturbing her. But something had been gnawing at him—something about their last encounter months ago. Something in the way she looked at him, as if she were hiding something. The unease had driven him nearly mad, and no amount of burning red weed or bottles of liquor could make it subside, and it led him to seek her out, even at this hour.


    He had to know.


    The door creaked open, and there she stood, flushed, her eyes wide with surprise.


    “Haros,” she said, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar note. “What are you doing here?”


    His chin lifted, head cocking slightly. He could smell it—the heady scent of desire hanging thick in the air. Without meaning to, his lips parted as he studied her further. The sheen of sweat, the haze in her eyes. His nostrils flared as he caught the subtle scent of arousal lingering around the hand she pressed to the edge of the door, the evidence of her self-stimulation still clinging to her skin. Had he interrupted?


    His gaze flickered down, taking in her flushed cheeks and collar, the slight tremble in her legs that she had to keep her knees bent toward each other. Gods, he’d loved when he made a woman so weak, but in that moment, it surprised him even more to see she had done it to herself. She was still so out of breath, as if maybe she had just nearly finished… He leaned slightly, peering into the room. She was alone. This had been a personal choice for personal pleasure.


    He raised an eyebrow, smirking coyly. “Am I interrupting, darling? Or would you like help finishing?”


    Her face flushed even deeper, and she shot him a cold, almost flirtatious look. “I didn’t ask you to come over, Haros,” she replied, though there was an edge of something else in her tone. “What do you want?”


    He smirked, unphased by her dismissive retort, and stepped forward as if he had every right to be there. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said casually, his eyes flicking over her body again, lingering just a little too long. “I felt bad about not seeing you when you came back. Couldn’t let another day go by without checking in on my queen, could I?” He paused, the smirk on his face softening slightly as he watched her turn, keeping a keen eye on him.


    She looked him up and down, assessing his towering height, his lithe build, the broad of his shoulders, and the faint outline of musculature he’d developed just beneath his shirt. A tingle raced through her, relighting the candle she’d thought she’d snuffed out for the night. No, that’s enough, she told herself, but knew it wasn’t. Her brow furrowed before teasing, “Perhaps you should request an audience next time. Wouldn’t want to make such a shameful display of your guilt for ignoring me.”


    The shift in his demeanor was almost imperceptible, but Mira caught it—a flicker in his eyes, a tightening in his jaw. His teasing faded into something else, something darker. His expression softened, but the lust in his gaze ignited. He licked his lips, cramming his hands into his pockets as he released an airy chuckle. Mira’s gaze narrowed as she watched his display, feigning amusement.


    “Did you enjoy your date?” he asked suddenly, his voice almost challenging, and the glint in his eyes shining with a borderline offense that she had gone out at all.


    Mira froze. “How do you know about that?” she asked as if it were some grave secret, the thought creeping in that while his brother may well have told him, worse was that he might have sensed it through their bond. It wasn’t as though she didn’t sense what he was doing, having faint flashes of visions to his… activities.


    He closed the space between them, his movements deliberate, each step bringing him closer. “I just know,” he murmured, his voice low and darker than even he had intended. “Something’s different. Did you fuck him?”


    Mira swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rush of desire that threatened to rise in a haughty reply to his accusation. Baseless and jealous, but she knew he craved the salacious details. “Would it bother you more to know that I had or to only believe I did?”


    Haros didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer and leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “If you wanted fucked by someone who knows what they’re doing, you could have just asked.”


    Her heart pounded, but she tilted her chin, her voice cutting through the tension as her hand lifted and pressed to his chest, pushing him back enough to look him squarely in the eyes. “And who exactly would I have asked, Haros? Or do you honestly think I believe that you would know what you’re doing without both a map and a guide?”


    His smile was wry, almost predatory. Something in her rejection, the way she dismissed his prowess and skill, set him even more alight. Every bit of him wanted her. “You bitch,” he muttered under his breath, but he hardly meant it.


    He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, just enough to make her pulse spike, but not enough to satisfy her growing hunger. His hand slid around the back of her neck, drawing her closer, keeping the kiss for a brief, tantalizing moment before he drew back. Parting with her pained him almost as much as teasing her this way, but he knew it was the most she would afford him. Especially after she’d been pleasuring herself to the likes of Shamine.


    Mira’s gaze slid to Haros’s lips, and without thinking, she leaned in, capturing him in a kiss again. He moved a hand to her waist, and when she pulled him closer, he pulled away, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something else—something almost triumphant. He knew what he was doing.


    Her body ached with frustration, her knees nearly giving out beneath her.


    But he smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re in a breeding period, Mira,” he said, his voice hushed but full of the same wanton lust coursing her veins. “And you’re drunk on it. You can’t even think straight, can you?”


    Mira’s chest tightened, and for a moment, everything inside her cooled—just enough for her to recognize what he’d said. She stepped back, ashamed of herself, and straightening her thin nightgown. It was the only thing she could grab in a hurry, and no doubt he could tell it was thrown on. What a mess she’d become. And Ysara was right; men would notice. Dragons would notice. He would notice.


    Haros stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers. “As much as I’d love to help you, my darling,” he said, using the term with a strange weight, “I need my rest. So do you. Training starts in the morning. Remember?”


    His words, though tinged with a deeper remorse and cynicism and something almost affectionate, had the power to ground her. She nodded, then looked up at him, almost confused. “Then why did you come by?”


    The corners of his lips curled up into a wicked, viperous grin. “You called.”


    “No, I didn’t,” she replied, her brow furrowing.


    “Yes,” he said, softer, brushing back her hair, then taking her wrist to bring her hand to his lips. With a dramatic deep breath over her fingers, his eyes met hers with a heavy implication. “You did.”


    Mira gulped, snatching her hand back. Her face burned with furious embarrassment. He had picked up on something from the bond, had known what she was doing—that was how he knew about the garden. The jerk! “I didn’t call you.”


    Haros chuckled, releasing her wrist. “Well, I answered.” His eyes sparkled with delight, realizing that perhaps she had not even realized what she had done—what he had done. He felt the vibrations, the hunger, and he’d sent in reply the very first thing he could think of to relieve her tension and the lingering desire he’d harbored longer than he cared to admit. And gods, smelling her now only confirmed for him how delicious she would taste if ever she allowed him the chance. “Goodnight, Mira,” he said softly, though he hoped she would ask him to stay, and turned and left, snapping the door shut.


    The cool air settled over her once again as she stood there, trying to quell the storm of desire that had been stirred within her. Despite everything—despite the heat in her body, the ache in her chest—she knew something else was at play. Something stronger than the mating drive. Something that she couldn’t yet give a name to or accept. But when the door clicked shut behind him, she realized—he was right. She had called to him, and he answered. He came to her and knew just what it was she needed. And she refused.


    Mira sighed, trudging back to her bed. The warmth of his kiss lingered on her lips, and she raised her fingers to brush over where the sparkles remained. It hadn’t felt like the kisses from Shamine. No, it was something different. Her heart leaped to her throat and dragged forth a sadness she’d long kept in the pit of her stomach. She fell to her side on her bed and gathered up her blankets around her. Haros loved her.


    And in the quiet of her room, for the first time in what felt like ages, she was alone with her thoughts and a sensation she had never expected to find.