The blankets were warm. His breathing was steady.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that—just resting side by side after a long mission. But at some point, his arm had wrapped around your waist, and your back had pressed to his chest, and neither deigned to move.

He was rarely this relaxed.

Dan Heng wasn’t the type to cling, but that night, something in him shifted. Maybe it was the way you exhaled when you nestled closer. Maybe it was the quiet.

Maybe it was the dream.

His body trembled faintly. Not from cold.

And then—something changed.

His hand around your waist tightened gently. Warmer. Larger. Claws grazed your sleeve. His breath against your neck felt deeper, more ancient.

You stirred in your sleep but didn’t wake.

Behind you, where Dan Heng had once rested, now lay Imbibitor Lunae—coiled and curled, still holding you. Hair trailing like silk across the pillow. Scales glowing faintly beneath the moonlight through the window.

He didn’t seem to notice the change.

He just held you closer.

Even in dreams, he reached for you.