Luna's Point of View
The night air was cold and still, but I barely noticed it. My focus was absolute.
From my perch atop the roof of his strange den—stone, wood, and metal all fused in a way only humans could create—I watched him move beneath the silver moonlight. Shadows cloaked me, but my eyes never left him. Every step he took, every flick of his fingers, every measured breath he drew—it all felt... right.
He wasn't rushing. He wasn't faltering. There was no hesitation in his limbs, no wasted motion. He flowed through the darkness like he belonged in it, each movement loose but lethal, like a predator in his natural environment. And he was a predator. Of that, there was no doubt.
I'd seen countless hunts in my life. Battles between dragons. Fights over territory. Mating rituals masked as duels. But this—this was different. It was elegant. Precise. And terrifying.
And I found myself enthralled.
At first, I told myself it was simple curiosity. I wanted to understand him better—this strange, scarred male who dared treat me as more than a beast. Who spoke truths instead of flattery. Who looked at me not as a prize, but as something he could stand beside. Someone who could stand beside him.
But that was only the surface.
The truth began with the blood.
He struck fast—so fast I almost didn't see it. One heartbeat, the first man was shouting orders. The next, his voice was a gurgle as Hiccup's claws tore through his throat. He didn't pause. He didn't flinch. He let the body crumple like shed scales.
A slow, instinctive thrill rolled through my spine.
I felt... excited.
No, more than that.
My wings twitched, pulling close to my sides as my heart began to pound, slow and strong.
The next kill was messier. Arms severed in a flash of steel and muscle. Blood fountained. The man screamed—a high, broken sound that echoed across the trees. Hiccup didn't even blink. He stood still and let the terror fester, feeding off it like it was warmth.
My claws dug slightly into the roof beneath me. The sound of his scream, the wild flailing, the raw fear—it stirred something in me. Something deep. Something primal.
And I liked it.
I liked it too much.
With each kill that followed, something inside me began to change. Something ancient. Dormant. A part of me I had never known existed until this moment.
Sadism.
Not the cold violence of a territorial strike. Not the dutiful kill of survival. No—this was different.
This was pleasure.
I wasn't in the battle, but I felt like I was. I felt every cut, every scream, every death—and I wanted more.
A low rumble built in my throat. A sound I hadn't made in years. Not a growl. Not a threat.
A purr.
It came from instinct, deep and resonant, and it shocked me. But I didn't stop. I let it out. Let it roll from my chest as I crouched lower, watching the man who had so quickly become more than just interesting.
I didn't know what this feeling was, only that it made my blood burn.
When one of the raiders ran, fleeing in blind panic, I stilled. My breath caught.
Hiccup didn't chase. He didn't need to. Instead, he knelt beside a corpse, pulled two blades free, and with a flick of his wrists, sent them flying.
They struck true. Tendons severed. The runner collapsed.
I licked my lips.
He crawled, sobbing, screaming for mercy. Hiccup followed slowly—like a god descending to pass judgment. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't boast.
He asked a question.
"What kind of greed festers in your heart?"
It was soft. Almost gentle. But it hit harder than any roar.
A shiver rippled through me. My wings fluttered, my tail lashed behind me. It felt... intimate. Too intimate. Like I was overhearing something sacred.
And then—
Then he drove his claw into the man's chest.
No hesitation.
He reached deep, tore the heart free, and held it aloft as it pulsed one final time in his grasp.
The blood painted his skin. It dripped down his arm. It speckled his jaw, his throat, his cheek. And in that moment, with the heart beating in his hand and his eyes narrowed in quiet thought...
I stopped breathing.
Everything inside me burned. I didn't just want him—I needed him. The bond wasn't made. No promise had passed between us.
But still, the word thundered through me.
Mine.
It was no longer curiosity. No longer interest. No longer admiration.
It was hunger. Obsession. Possession.
I crouched low, body trembling—not in fear, but in restraint. If I moved now, if I jumped down, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I would wrap around him. Bite him. Claim him. Mark him in a way dragons did when they chose.
He was perfect.
He was mine.
And the fact that he was human? Irrelevant.
His kind had hunted dragons. Enslaved them. Tortured them. But I didn't care.
He wasn't them. He was him.
He had spoken to me like no one else ever had. Looked at me like no one else dared. Fought like a creature born of fire and ash.
He had said he could defeat a dragon. That he had fought them and won.
I believed him.
But I wanted to see it. I needed to. Not because I doubted him—but because I needed that final confirmation.
Not for logic.
For instinct.
For instinct that demanded my mate be able to fight beside me, not behind me. That if I stood at his side, it would be as his equal—not as a shield.
If he could do that...
Then I would no longer wait.
I would take him.
I would claim him with teeth and flame and song.
And I would never let go.
As he dropped the heart into the dirt and turned to face the last raider—the woman too terrified to flee, frozen in place—I didn't feel pity.
I felt pride.
I felt satisfaction.
And I felt a terrifying, aching desire that clawed through my soul like wildfire.
Every step he took was dominance incarnate. Every breath he drew echoed the rhythm of my own. He wasn't just strong. He wasn't just brilliant. He wasn't just dangerous.
He was mine.
And the world could burn before I let it take him from me.
I didn't know when I started to smile.
A real smile. Sharp. Dangerous. Feral.
I didn't care that I had never felt this way before. Didn't care that no dragon had stirred this in me. Didn't care that I was supposed to be above this kind of madness.
Because it didn't feel like madness.
It felt like truth.
Hiccup was my match.
My mate.
And when the time came, I would descend like a storm and show him exactly what that meant.
And heaven help anything that tried to stop me.
Because I would not share what's mine.
Not now.
Not ever.