I woke to warmth.
Not just the heavy blankets or the weight of velvet sheets, but the warmth of her body beside mine—smooth skin, soft breaths, subtle perfume.
I didn't move right away.
I just stared at her for a moment.
Her silver hair fanned out over the pillows like threads of moonlight. Her lips were parted slightly, her chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths that made her massive, perfectly shaped breasts press against the fabric of her nightgown. Honestly, it was a miracle I didn't die of blood loss from the nose.
She was terrifying. Cold. Ruthless.
But right now… she looked cute. Peaceful. Gorgeous in a way that hurt a little to look at.
And sexy—ridiculously sexy.
I swallowed hard and slowly began to move, easing my body toward the edge of the bed. I figured if I could just slide out without waking her, I could start the day and pretend I hadn't spent the night next to the most powerful woman in the kingdom.
But then I felt it.
Something wrapped tight around my leg.
I glanced down—and froze.
Her tail.
Her thick, sinuous, scaly tail was coiled loosely around my thigh and calf, like a snake refusing to let its prey escape.
I didn't even have time to react before she stirred.
Her emerald eyes opened slowly, like a lion waking from a nap.
"You're leaving already?" she asked, her voice groggy and low.
"I—I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't. My tail did."
I blushed and sat back onto the bed awkwardly, trying not to stare as she stretched—her curves pressing against the nightgown, her wings flexing in small, lazy arcs.
Then, out of nowhere:
"Why didn't you do anything to me?"
My blood froze.
"Huh?"
"Last night," she clarified, turning her head lazily toward me. "You had your chance. I gave you my bed. My body was right next to yours. You didn't try anything. Not even once."
I sat up straighter, panicked. "W-Wouldn't you kill me for that?"
She looked at me quietly, then sighed.
"No. I'd kill you for being stupid."
"Oh."
"But I'm not mad," she added, voice quiet now. "I'm disappointed."
"Disappointed?"
"You couldn't even bring yourself to cuddle me?"
My jaw hung open.
She shifted onto her side, one arm supporting her head as she looked at me with a sort of tired pity.
"Am I really that scary?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. You are."
Her brow twitched.
"But," I continued, "I don't care."
She blinked.
"I know you're terrifying. I've seen what you do to enemies. You're ruthless, and commanding, and... yeah, I've been afraid of you since day one. But I still love you."
That last sentence slipped out before I could stop it.
She didn't speak for a while.
Then she sat up, swung her legs over the bed, and gave me a look that was neither cold nor angry—but something in between curious and dangerous.
"You're not sleeping in that broom closet anymore."
"Wait, what?"
"This is your room now. Mine."
"Is that… really necessary?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"Don't ever question me like that again."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She stood, stretching once more before walking to her dressing screen. Her tail uncoiled from my leg slowly, like it was releasing something it didn't want to let go.
As she disappeared behind the curtain, her voice drifted back through the veil.
"Tonight, when we sleep... you will cuddle me."
I sat there frozen, staring at the twisted sheets and the imprint her body left behind.
I didn't understand her. I didn't think I ever would.
But I was finally where I wanted to be.
And for once, I wasn't alone.
By now, I had fallen into a rhythm.
Wake up beside the Queen—Vilo, I had finally dared to call her once.
Make her breakfast.
Polish her throne.
Schedule her strategy meetings.
Fluff her pillows.
Brush the wings she never admitted she liked having brushed.
She never said anything when I did it. But she never stopped me either.
That morning, like any other, I was whistling softly to myself while scrubbing the massive obsidian bathtub she used for her nightly soaks. I had just finished rubbing down the clawed feet with volcanic ash soap when the bathroom door creaked open.
I looked up, expecting Vilo.
It wasn't her.
Instead, a soldier in light armor leaned against the doorframe. A tall, smug woman with olive skin and short red hair, one of the elite warmaidens from Vilo's infernal army. Her name was Sella, if I remembered right. I'd seen her barking orders at demons twice her size.
"Oh," she said, grinning. "So the Queen's pet does housework too."
"Actually," I said, standing, "I'm just finishing—"
"You're always around Her Majesty," she said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "Kind of a waste, don't you think? All that attention. When there are other women who could give you a better time."
"Sorry, but I—"
She placed a hand on my chest. "You really shouldn't let her leash you. Come on. Just once. You'll like it."
"I said no."
But she didn't listen.
Her hand dropped to my waistband.
And then—
The door burst open.
A gust of pressure slammed into the room like a hurricane. The marble walls cracked. The air itself screamed.
Vilo stepped inside, her expression blank. Not angry. Not shocked. Just... cold.
The kind of cold that preceded the eruption of a volcano.
In less than a blink, Sella was off me—and screaming. Not from shame. From pain.
Vilo had already torn off one of her arms.
"You dare touch what belongs to me?" she hissed, her voice thick with heat and malice.
"P-Please, I didn't—!" the girl wailed, crumpled to the ground.
Vilo didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The bathroom became a slaughterhouse.
Blood sprayed the obsidian tiles. Flesh hit the walls. Screams were muffled by gurgles, then silenced entirely. She didn't just kill Sella—she unmade her. Piece by piece. Methodical. Efficient.
By the time it was over, the only sounds left were dripping and my choked breathing.
I dropped to my knees.
"P-Please don't kill me," I whispered, shaking. "I swear I wasn't cheating. I didn't do anything—"
She turned her eyes to me. For a moment, I was sure she'd turn that same fury on me.
But then she said softly, "Stop."
I blinked.
"I know," she said again. "I saw everything."
She stepped forward, her long feet splashing in red. Her hand reached toward me—but I flinched. Instinctively.
Her expression cracked.
"...You think I'd hurt you?"
"No!" I said quickly. "I— I just—"
She pulled her hand back, curling it slowly into a trembling fist.
"I was only going to check you for injuries," she said coldly. "After what she did to you."
"I'm fine," I whispered, still shaking.
"You don't look fine."
She stepped forward again. This time, I didn't back away.
She crouched beside me, still covered in gore, and touched my arms gently. Her claws didn't cut. Her hands didn't shake.
"Let me make sure," she said.
"I don't need—"
She gave me a look. One that said, You're not getting out of this.
So I sat there. Let her examine me. Fingers trailing over my arms, my shoulders, my waist. Light. Careful. Like I was a puzzle she couldn't afford to break.
"You're not bleeding," she said softly. "Good."
She stood, wiped her hands with a nearby towel, and looked down at me.
"You're mine. I'll protect you. No matter what."
I nodded, still sitting in the middle of the blood-slick tiles.
She turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"Oh. One more thing."
"Y-Yeah?"
"You're not allowed to clean this room. I'll have someone else do it."
"Because it's a mess?"
"No." She looked back at me. "Because I don't want you scrubbing her blood off the floors."
And with that, she vanished into the halls of the palace, leaving me alone with what remained.