The fairy lights weren't just soft; they were a physical presence, casting a warm, honeyed glow that made the air feel thick and sacred, like the inside of a cathedral built for sin instead of salvation. Luna stood there, her silhouette painted in molten gold, completely fucking naked and gloriously unashamed, every soft curve and shadow screaming invitation.
And that smile—it hadn't changed. It was still the same smile that had first undone me, a beacon of sweetness that somehow survived the storm of depravity I'd become. Only now it carried teeth.
"No transforming," she whispered, pressing one cool finger to my lips like a sacrament. It was a command more absolute than any I'd ever growled in the dark.
"I want to feel your heartbeat. I want your hands to tremble, just a little, like they did that first time in my room after our study date, when you were terrified, you'd break me."
