"20 days!?" Moon's words echoed through the dining hall. She glared over at Soltero, who seemed to think this was awfully hilarious, which just made her blood boil to the point of overflowing.
"Do you truly think this is the appropriate time to be laughing?" she sneered, her fangs momentarily visible behind her pursed lips.
Soltero replied with a wicked grin spreading across his angular features. "Oh, I hardly think anything that happened the last 20 days is appropriate," he teased before taking a large bite of his fried eggs mixed with the crispy hash browns. The golden yolk broke under his fork, spilling across his plate as he maintained unwavering eye contact with her.
His words and actions only sent Moon further into a tirade. She was screaming and yelling at him, her voice bouncing off the high ceilings of the dining hall, all while that flushed heat crossed her features out of embarrassment. Truly, she refused to believe any of that had happened, despite the fact her mind was egging her on to fuck him right on the dining table. But Moon had more control than that—at least that's what she thought, but who knows what was bound to happen.
Xiox just stood off to the side, amusement tugging at his features as he watched how Moon reacted after he had informed her it was, in fact, not hours they had spent together going at it, but instead it had been a full 20 days that Moon and Soltero had spent fucking each other. The realization had hit her like a bucket of boiling water, her pupils dilating in shock as the truth sank in.
But as funny as it might have been, Moon had to catch up on a lot of work that she had missed, which she promptly went to do after breakfast, leaving behind her half-eaten toast and untouched coffee that had long since gone cold.
Walking through the hall, Moon held a stack of papers in her hands, quickly grazing over the information she needed to absorb so she could get it handled as quickly and efficiently as possible. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Though Moon had slowly started growing more agitated with each passing moment.
Following behind her were heavy footsteps—Soltero's footsteps. Not only that, he was whistling some annoying tune, the melody irritatingly cheerful. Why was he still here? Why wasn't he going back home? This was all just making her more upset, her grip tightening on the paperwork until her knuckles turned white.
It made her come to a halt in her tracks. Obviously, Soltero wasn't paying enough attention, probably gazing at the paintings that hung upon the beautiful floral and vine wallpaper, admiring the craftsmanship with that infuriating smirk. He couldn't help but run right into her, almost falling flat on his face, but luckily, he caught himself and looked at Moon, confused.
"Now, what was that all about?" he asked, brushing imaginary dust from his immaculate suit.
She scoffed and pointed a finger at him threateningly, the tip of her nail nearly touching his chest. "You are being a huge disturbance! Don't you have anywhere else to be? You have a whole empire, for God's sake!" As much as Moon was upset about him being in her company after spending those intimate days together, another part of her was eager for more, needy for his touch on her body like she was an addict and he was the only cure.
He rested his hands on his hips, staring down at this lovely woman, taking in her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell with each agitated breath. "I do," he replied simply, his tail swaying slowly at the amusement he was feeling, the tip occasionally brushing against the polished floor.
She retracted her arm, rubbing her temples with her index finger and thumb, just trying to grasp his mentality. But maybe he just liked to see her so frustrated like this, driven to the edge of reason by his mere presence. "Then why are you still here, Soltero?" her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"Don't be like this, cara mia." She might've not expected him to stick around for this long, but she definitely didn't expect him to once again make sudden moves on her. He leaned down, placing his hands upon her waist and leaning into her shoulder. It sent a shiver up her spine when she could feel his hot breath against her unnaturally cold demonic skin. "You really shouldn't expect to be able to chase me away so easily..." His lips traced up the column of her neck to place soft kisses before once again meeting her fierce green gaze with his fiery yellow eyes. "Maybe I've grown addicted... I can't simply leave without another taste," he teased, waiting for her to respond, his thumbs drawing small circles on her hips.
The grip on the paperwork she held in her hand was tight, almost crumbling it in her grasp when she glared at him as if she wanted to rip out those stupid horns to kill him already, and yet she found herself trembling for a different reason. A flush of embarrassment filled her body when she realized she was feeling arousal, thrill, and anticipation—a boiling heat that made her uncomfortable in the clothes she wore, suddenly too tight and restrictive.
"You are truly infuriating..." she gritted out through her teeth, the Dalmatian tail of hers lashing side to side like a cat protecting its territory from a rodent. But even as she said it, her body betrayed her, leaning ever so slightly into his touch, her papers forgotten as they slipped from her grasp and scattered across the floor.
Moon hastily leaned back against her desk, her breath catching as her lips collided with Soltero's. He pressed into her like a starving animal, desperate for attention, for touch—for her. His hands gripped her hips with protective urgency, pulling her pelvis flush to his, where she could feel the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing through layers of fabric. Every inch of his body screamed hunger, and Moon could feel her own fury mixing recklessly with desire.
Soltero craved her with every cell in his being. It wasn't just about sex—it was about connection, about feeling whole. Without her, he felt fragmented, like he couldn't breathe unless he was inside her. Twenty days of intimacy hadn't dulled that need; if anything, it had only intensified it. And still, despite their shared hunger, Moon remained sharp-edged and aggressive, her tail lashing against the desk beneath her as she nearly tore his suit from his body. Her anger hadn't gone away. It was just hidden under layers of lust and tension.
They fought their clothes off like enemies locked in battle, each touch a push and pull of power. Soltero's grip tightened around her thighs as he yanked them apart, lifting her onto the desk and thrusting himself against her once more. She let out a moan, head tilting back in raw pleasure, but he caught her mouth again before the sound could fully escape. His tongue tangled with hers, swallowing her gasps as her chest rose and fell against his, the soft swell of her breasts pressed firmly into him.
Gods, how he loved her body. The way it reacted to him instinctively, like it had been built to match his. Her back arched, chasing his touch, her hips shifting to meet his pace. One of his hands tangled in her thick, orange-brown hair while the other braced against the desk. He began to thrust into her with reckless rhythm, hips rolling against hers in a fierce and steady tempo. The desk beneath them shook, groaning under the weight of their shared intensity.
Even after all the time they'd spent tangled together, the feeling of her tight, wet heat wrapping around him still felt raw—like the very first time. He gritted his teeth, pushing deeper, harder. When he finally pulled away from her lips, he trailed his mouth down her neck and across the delicate skin of her collarbone, descending lower to one of her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as he kneaded the other with his hand. The intimacy of it, the need threaded between them, nearly undid him. He could feel himself spiraling, losing himself in the warmth of her body, in her taste, in her very essence.
It didn't take long before his body began to tremble. With a low, guttural groan, he buried himself as deep as he could go, gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to splinter it. His orgasm ripped through him like a wave crashing ashore, spilling everything he had into her as his breath stuttered against her shoulder. They stayed locked like that for a long moment, catching their breath, bodies still pressed together.
Soltero looked down at her, eyes filled with a molten mix of lust and adoration. Moon met his gaze with a storm of emotions—anger, desire, maybe even the barest hint of love beginning to claw its way to the surface. She hated that. Hated how easily he could pull her back in, no matter how hard she tried to stay guarded.
She had no logical reason to hate him anymore. But her fury lingered like smoke in her lungs—resentment she couldn't quite extinguish. She was still discovering who she was, still fighting through the broken pieces of her past. And with Soltero? There was always the risk she'd do something drastic again. Something reckless. Something she'd regret.
Afterward, they dressed in silence. Moon kept her eyes down, almost ashamed—not of him, but of herself. She didn't understand why her body betrayed her so easily. Why she couldn't resist him. Why it felt like she'd burn to ash without his touch. And no matter how much worse it might get, she'd never admit that aloud. Not to anyone.
She didn't even realize he had finished dressing until his hands slid over her hips again and he pressed a soft kiss to her neck. The gesture sent a ripple of shivers up her back. Without thinking, she turned swiftly to slap him—only for him to catch her wrist mid-motion.
She hated when he did that.
"You shouldn't sneak up on a woman like that," she snapped, her voice like venom.
Unbothered, Soltero simply raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, just like he had the night of the ball. But this time, Moon yanked her hand away aggressively, scoffing as he chuckled.
"My apologies," he said with mock solemnity, "Next time, I'll make sure to be sneakier."
"You're ridiculous," she bit back, folding her arms.
"Only for you, cara mia." He flashed a cheeky smile, combing his fingers through his fiery hair, smoothing it back into place.
Just as Moon opened her mouth to fire back, a knock at the door cut through the tension like a blade. She instantly straightened, her posture regal and composed—the Empress once more. Her tone was calm, controlled.
"Come in."
Both Moon and Soltero turned to face the door as it opened. Xiox, her ever-efficient personal assistant, entered carrying a stack of documents. His sharp eyes quickly scanned the room, registering the heat that still lingered in the air between them. He raised a brow but said nothing.
"Lord Soltero," he said smoothly, "your assistant, Mrs. Alvera, is here for you."
Crossing the room, he placed the paperwork neatly on Moon's desk, already preparing for the next task.
Soltero let out a dramatic sigh, one hand pressed to his chest.
"I suppose I should return to my duties as Emperor," he said with a theatrical flair. "Oh, how my fun must always come to a tragic end."
Moon rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, refusing to rise to his antics. She wasn't about to beg him to stay. Hell no.
Even without a reaction, Soltero sauntered toward her once more, stopping just behind her and leaning close. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I'll still be back. Don't expect me to be gone for long."
He pressed a final kiss to her ear, slow and deliberate, before striding out the door to return to his empire.
As the silence settled again, Xiox gave her a pointed look. "I assume," he said dryly, "that it was a very urgent and important meeting."
Moon flushed with heat, her cheeks going crimson. She glared daggers at him.
"Hush!"
Moon made her way down the marble halls, her assistant Xiox following a few steps behind her. He was meticulously listing off recent reports and resolved issues with the estate, just as Moon had requested. Nothing unusual: maintenance to the greenhouse, new floral décor placed strategically around the estate to keep up with the latest trends, and other mundane matters.
Being an empress meant there was always something that needed her attention, from the moment she woke up until the end of the day when Xiox would proudly list her accomplishments. Something about hearing how well she had managed her tasks left her feeling a bit fluttery inside. Perhaps that was due to how severely neglected she had been as a child—any validation now felt like rain in a desert.
Even as Xiox continued his steady report, Moon was slowly zoning out. Her mind wandered to lustful places. Ever since those passionate moments she and Soltero had spent together, her body grew increasingly restless, needy for more of that intoxicating feeling she had experienced. When these feelings became more abundant, she'd grow more agitated the longer she went unsatisfied, which was unusual for her typically composed demeanor.
Of course, she had always had temperament issues—her staff knew to tread carefully—but this was different. This was something she simply could not seem to keep under control, a molten desire bubbling within her core that needed to be soothed. Her mind clawed at her senses; sometimes she'd catch herself drifting off into elaborate fantasies, acting upon her desires by pleasuring herself, only to be angered by the lack of relief compared to what she felt with Soltero.
It had only been a few weeks since he had left, and she was growing increasingly impatient for his arrival once more. Before their intimacy, his visits had been merely annoying because she had harbored such deep-seated anger toward him. But now she craved him desperately, feeling like she might go mad without him there to satisfy the hunger that consumed her thoughts day and night.
Upon arriving at the dining hall, her guards opened the grand, ornate doors upon her approach. Moon was expecting the usual dinner alone, surrounded only by silence and the occasional interruption from servants. But when she looked upon the grand table, its polished surface gleaming in the light, she froze when she saw him. The lighting was dim, lit only by the golden glow of candlelight, but even so, she could still note that annoyingly smug yet undeniably charming grin that spread across his sculpted features. Those fierce yellow eyes shined through the dim lighting like beacons, just as her emerald eyes did—two predators having a silent standoff for a few charged moments until one of them finally decided to break the heavy silence.
"Did you miss me, cara mia?" His velvet words cut through the thick air, his accent wrapping around each syllable with practiced precision.
She clutched her hands at her side and strided over to the table, her gown swishing around her thighs. "How dare you just enter yourself without my approval! I shall severely punish whoever let you waltz into my home without my permission!" she snarled through her words, gritting her teeth as rage and desire battled within her.
"Don't be like that," he replied, leaning back in his chair with easy confidence. "I let myself in." His grin was so irritating to her—how did he ever find the audacity to act on impulse without care the way he does? How could he be so confident in himself without a second thought?
She didn't know if she was more upset over the fact that he was here or the fact that she had secretly wanted him here, even though she'd never openly admit that to him. But once she reached his end of the table, she couldn't control herself anymore. With a swift motion, she grabbed him by his expensive suit collar and meshed her lips into his. The passion mingled between them as they collided, months of tension breaking like a dam. She didn't even know why she was kissing him so desperately, but once they started, they couldn't stop.
Bodies pressed together, her slender fingers running through his thick hair, he wrapped his strong hands around her rear and picked her up before setting her on the edge of the table for easier access. They were like primal animals desperate to breed, all thoughts of propriety forgotten in the heat of desire. Even though he had initially come to spend a nice meal with "his" woman, he ended up consuming something else entirely for his dinner. They spent an hour or so engaged in an activity entirely different than eating—instead surrendering to aggressive, passionate lovemaking that left them both breathless and satisfied.
When they had eventually finished, Moon seemed somehow calm enough to eat dinner with him. Even just making small remarks and frustrated comments, she didn't seem so hostile anymore. The air actually started feeling lighter between them; progress was actually being made for once. Soltero just wished he could be around her longer. He wondered if she smiled when he wasn't around, the way he wished she'd smile at him. Even though he knew it was a ridiculous idea given her temperament, Soltero knew deep in his heart that he was going to marry her if he could ever manage to make her smile at him, even just once.
In the days that passed, Soltero always left for weeks at a time. And just when Moon thought she was going to snap from impatience and thrust her desires and needs onto another poor soul, he always showed back up and fulfilled her needs to her heart's content, no matter how many hours or days it went on for. He was always unpredictable, showing up at dinners, breakfast, when she was tending to her beloved plants in her greenhouse—whenever and wherever he pleased. Sometimes after they had shared their intimate moments together, he'd stay around longer just to spend time with her, pretending like nothing significant was happening between them. Perhaps that was because he feared that if he started acting different and more couple-like with her, she might chase him away and forbid him from seeing her again. He simply couldn't bear something like that—the thought of losing access to her was unbearable.
Usually, he indulged in painting her during these extended stays—creating beautiful portraits that captured her fierce beauty and regal bearing. These artworks were both his personal treasures and reminders of their complicated relationship, one they both secretly craved despite the challenges. Each brushstroke expressed how he longed to stay by her side permanently, even if she was a rather feisty and sometimes cruel woman. The paintings preserved moments of vulnerability she showed only to him, when her imperial mask slipped just enough to reveal the woman beneath.
After they had gone through a particularly more somber, intimate time together—not rushed but slow, yet still harboring that same aggression they always shared with each other—Moon would be laying peacefully beside him, nude body to nude body in a spooning position. Her alabaster skin almost glowed in the dim candlelight that flickered across the imperial chambers, casting long shadows against the ornate walls. The silk sheets pooled around their intertwined bodies, a stark contrast between her porcelain complexion and his sun-kissed bronze. The air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood incense and the lingering musk of their passion, creating an intoxicating aroma that hung in the cool night air.
She was silent, though that much was typical; she never spoke much after they had sex, almost like she was reflecting on herself, lost in her own thoughts before drifting off to sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest was the only movement from her otherwise still form. Her face, usually a mask of imperial authority, now held a vulnerable softness to it that very few had ever witnessed. They were not a couple, not lovers. She didn't even want to think of them that way or think of him that way. Labels created expectations, and expectations led to disappointment—a lesson carved into her very being.
Maybe it was because of how she watched relationships crumble in her youth, the way her parents' love had twisted into something unrecognizable and toxic. The shouting matches that echoed through the palace halls, the sound of shattering crystal against marble floors, and the unmistakable crack of palm against cheek—all sounds that had formed the dissonant symphony of her childhood. The last thing she wanted was to be like her mother and father, especially since she was the one who killed them. The memory of that night still remained with her. A necessary evil, she had convinced herself, but the weight of patricide was a crown far heavier than the imperial one she now wore.
In a way, Moon was truly too scared to lose Soltero. She was already afraid of what was becoming of her—these urges she couldn't control, primal and insatiable, clawing at her insides like a beast trying to break free from its cage. The way she felt she was falling more mad by the day, her thoughts becoming increasingly fragmented and dark, like shards of a broken mirror reflecting distorted versions of herself. Hell, she almost fucked her guard the other day—a young, loyal soldier whose name she couldn't even remember now—but luckily he was saved because Soltero had arrived just when she needed him, materializing in her chambers as if summoned by her very desires, his mere presence enough to tame the beast within her, if only temporarily.
Moon was dragged out of her frightening thoughts when she could feel Soltero's warm fingers caressing her demonically cold skin, which made her flinch slightly, a barely perceptible reaction that anyone else might have missed. The temperature difference between them was always stark—his touch like fire against her ice. Soltero didn't comment on it, having long grown accustomed to her unusual corpse-like coldness, a side effect of the ancient magic that flowed through her veins. He dragged his fingers from her hip up to her shoulder, tracing invisible patterns along the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine, and the delicate ridge of her collarbone, before taking a few strands of her hair through his fingers. Her long, orange brown hair felt like spun moonlight between his calloused fingers, a stark contrast to his own fiery locks.
"Moon, shall I assume I'll be receiving an invitation for your annual birthday ball? The Wintersmoon Fest?" His voice was a deep murmur against her ear, intimate yet teasing, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. The faint accent that colored his words—a remnant of his far-off homeland across the Crimson Sea—added an exotic quality to his already mesmerizing voice.
His words caught Moon slightly off guard, pulling her from the spiral of her dark thoughts. Her birthday? The realization came slowly, like waking from a deep slumber. She had honestly completely forgotten about her birthday, though that was normal behavior for Moon. Time meant little to someone who had seen countless winters come and go, who had watched generations rise and fall like tides. The empire only started celebrating her birthday after she had officially became Empress, which was when she was 12, but at that point she was so used to not celebrating her own birthday she often forgot about it. Before that, birthdays were simply markers of another year survived in a court filled with vipers and assassins, nothing worthy of celebration. Luckily, Xiox—her personal assistant with his meticulous mind and unwavering loyalty—was excellent at doing most planning for her, so she needn't worry. He would handle the guest lists, the menu, the decorations, and all the thousand little details that went into hosting the realm's most anticipated annual event.
Besides the annual ball being held for Moon's birthday within the walls of the capitol, the surrounding kingdoms, towns, and villages celebrated something different for her birthday called the Wintersmoon Fest, which was a two-week-long festival across the northern region. The festival transformed the normally austere northern landscape into a wonderland of light and celebration. Markets would spring up overnight, filled with exotic goods from across the known world. Bards and minstrels would perform epic tales of the Empress's exploits—some true, most embellished beyond recognition. The air would be filled with the aroma of mulled wine and roasting meats, and children would run through the streets with small blue lanterns meant to symbolize Moon's power. Though since Moon hardly left her own estate or capitol in general, she really never cared much to view the whole event with its elaborate ice sculptures, midnight dances, and the ritual lighting of the blue flames.
Moon slightly sat up to face him, disturbing the perfect stillness of the chamber, her messy hair draping over her breasts and around her shoulders like a silken shroud, catching the moonlight that slipped through the narrow windows of her chambers. The moonbeams seemed drawn to her, as if recognizing a kindred spirit, casting her in an ethereal glow that emphasized her otherworldly beauty. Her face, with its high cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips, was a masterpiece of perfect symmetry, yet it was the coldness in her eyes that truly defined her—the look of someone who had seen too much, done too much, and lost too much.
"You already know the answer to that," her voice was quieter than normal, barely above a whisper in the darkness, yet carrying the unmistakable edge of authority that never quite left her, even in moments of intimacy. The imperial decree in her tone was as natural to her as breathing, a habit formed from years of command and unquestioned obedience.
"You've forgotten again, haven't you?" His smile spread with amusement, a knowing grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed a flash of white teeth against his tan skin. The candlelight caught the golden flecks in his yellow eyes, making them almost glow with mischief, like a predator amused by its prey. His face, with its sharp jawline and perpetual five o'clock shadow, held a rugged handsomeness that stood in stark contrast to the polished courtiers who usually surrounded her.
"Don't be ridiculous! Of course I haven't!" she scoffed, her pride wounded by his accurate assessment. A faint blush colored her cheeks—a rare display of emotion from the normally stoic Empress—and an annoyed expression grew on her face, her brows furrowing slightly and her lips pressing into a thin line. She turned away from him once more with a huff, pulling the silk sheets tighter around her pale form, a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment. The sheets whispered against her skin as she moved, a soft sound in the otherwise silent room.
He knew she was lying—he always could see through her masks and pretenses with an ease that both unsettled and comforted her—but just let out a low chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. The sound reverberated through the chamber, a warm counterpoint to the chill that perpetually surrounded Moon. Soltero wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close against the warmth of his chest, his muscled arm a welcome weight across her slender waist. The contrast between them was striking—her, the embodiment of winter with her pale coloring and cold demeanor; him, like summer personified with his warm skin and fiery temperament.
"I'll be expecting my invitation, cara mia," he said quietly, the term of endearment slipping out in his native tongue, a small intimacy he rarely allowed himself. He pressed his lips against the nape of her neck, the spot where her hairline met her skin, a tender gesture that belied the tempestuous nature of their relationship. The kiss lingered, warm and soft, before he settled behind her, falling asleep with her in his arms. The rhythm of their breathing eventually synchronized in the stillness of the night, creating a peaceful harmony at odds with the turbulent emotions that typically defined their connection.
As Moon drifted towards sleep, her last conscious thought was of Soltero's invitation. Despite herself, despite all her fears and reservations, a small part of her was already imagining him at the ball, cutting a striking figure among the sycophants and nobles, his eyes finding hers across the crowded great hall. The thought brought an unbidden smile to her lips as she finally surrendered to slumber.