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“A well-documented one.”

His laugh broke into a groan when she stroked the horn again. Dreven caught her hips, not to stop her but to steady himself, and Kesta felt the hard proof of his desire between them. She shifted against him once, then again, until his claws flexed carefully away from her skin.

“Kesta.”

“Yes.”

“That was a warning.”

“Mine is a request.” She leaned down and kissed him. “I want you inside me.”

He rolled them with controlled strength, settling above her without pinning her. Kesta opened her legs and felt the first press of him. There was no discussion of claim law this time, no public consequence waiting at dawn. Dreven searched her face anyway.

“Yes,” she said again.

He entered her slowly. The stretch made her breath catch, but her body remembered him and welcomed the pressure more easily. Dreven paused until she moved beneath him, then began a rhythm that built from careful into hungry by mutual degrees.

Kesta wrapped one arm around his back and the other around the horn nearest her shoulder. Each thrust drove pleasure deeper, heat gathering low and tight until thought narrowed to the scrape of scales under her palm, his breath against her throat, and the thick curl of his tail around her ankle. Dreven’s control did not vanish; it changed purpose. Instead of holding himself away from her, he used it to follow every shift of her body.

When Kesta came, she bit his shoulder hard enough to make him shudder. Dreven followed moments later, burying his face beside her neck while his body locked with the force of release. The band flared white, then copper, then went dark again. They stayed still until their breathing slowed.

“Any prompt?” he asked.

Kesta checked. “None.”

“Pain?”

“No.” She ran her fingers through his damp hair. “You?”

“Only damaged dignity.”

“The horn incident?”

“You laughed.”

“I will recover eventually.”

He made the rough sound that had become his version of a laugh and eased onto his side. Kesta followed rather than letting him retreat to the opposite pallet. For a few minutes the quarantine shelter was only a cramped room with a broken thermal line and two people sharing body heat because they wanted to.

The first time they had mated, survival and desire had been tangled together. This time there had been no price, no strategic advantage and no legal protection gained. Kesta found the absence of usefulness unexpectedly precious.

When the band gave one last faint pulse, she felt Dreven tense. Kesta laid her palm over his chest. “It can record what our bodies do.”

“I know.”

“It still doesn’t get the meaning.”

His hand covered hers. “No.” Only then did they dress and move apart enough to face whatever waited outside the quarantine door. Before the door opened, the shelter speaker clicked once more. Pela’s voice came through. “The families have accepted the quarantine result. They have not accepted the absence of a procedure.” Kesta glanced at Dreven. “Meaning?”

“Meaning Ash Camp has relied on one commander’s judgment where it now needs law. Lina has proposed a temporary article: no person may be confined for imperial contamination without two medical signatures and one civilian witness. No claimed person may be isolated solely at the claimant’s order.”

The second clause landed between them. Dreven’s expression did not change, but the scales along his throat tightened. “Who drafted it?”

“Lina. Jessa amended it. Keth supports it.”

“And you?”

“I record votes. I do not protect commanders from them.”