The bed creaked softly beneath us as the laughter died down. Luna was still lying flat on my chest, her heavy silver head resting right above my collarbone, her breathing slow and warm against my neck. For a moment, the room was completely silent.
Then, Luna shifted.
She didn't do her usual lazy roll or demand another plate of spiced trench-meat. Instead, her body went completely rigid. The playful warmth in her silver eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, primordial sharpness that made the ambient temperature in the room feel like it had dropped ten degrees in a fraction of a second.
She raised her head, looking down at me with an intensity that had nothing to do with her gluttonous, spoiled persona.
"You think you understand what she then you are wrong."
Luna said. I kept my hand resting on her back, my fingers loosely buried in her thick silver fur, but I didn't interrupt. When Luna used that tone, you listened.
