The villa changed when the full moon rose.
Even before it crested the horizon, he had grown stiff, restless—more silent than usual. His eyes followed Diana all evening, sharper, darker, something ancient flickering behind them.
When the first silver sliver appeared in the sky, he spoke in a low voice:
"Stay in your room tonight. Lock the door. No matter what you hear, you don't come out."
She nodded, though her chest tightened.
The warning felt heavier than the night itself.
He hesitated as he turned away—like there was something more he wanted to say—but then he left the room, closing the door behind him.
The house went quiet.
Too quiet.
Then… it began.
From somewhere deep in the hallways, she heard bodies shifting, bones bending, low growls rolling like thunder through the house. Controlled voices dissolved into guttural sounds, instinctive, primal.
She sat on her bed, heart racing.
Hours passed.
No sleep came.
A single thought kept spinning in her mind:
Is he safe?
Eventually, curiosity—no, worry—pushed her to the door. She cracked it open just enough to see the hallway.
And then she saw him.
A massive shadow moved silently across the marble floor.
Then his head lifted.
Two golden eyes glowed in the darkness like molten metal.
A black panther, enormous, muscles rippling under sleek fur.
Predatory.
Silent.
Him.
Her breath hitched.
He turned toward her instantly, sensing movement—sensing her.
For a split second, instincts took over his body.
He rushed forward.
She gasped and instinctively shut the door, but he was already there—the heavy weight of his body pushing it open just enough to slip inside before she could lock it.
The moonlight illuminated him fully now.
A creature of power, danger, and raw instinct.
He stood there, chest rising in slow, heavy breaths… watching her.
Circling her.
A predator assessing prey.
Her heart hammered.
Fear mixed with a strange, overwhelming awe.
He moved around her slowly, tail low, gaze fixed on her face like he was trying to remember what she meant to him.
"C-can you hear me?" she whispered.
No response.
Only a low rumbling growl deep in his chest—uncertain, conflicted, searching.
He stepped closer, pressing his nose to her neck, her shoulder, her hair—sniffing her intensely. The air vibrated with the quiet line of a purr building slowly, hesitantly.
His muscles relaxed.
The growl softened.
Instinct recognized her scent…
and accepted it.
He lowered his massive head gently into her lap, breathing out a long, hard exhale as if anchoring himself to her presence.
She let out a shaky breath and placed a trembling hand on his fur.
Warm.
Soft.
Alive.
He leaned into her touch, eyes half-closing—calm now, no longer the beast circling prey.
The danger passed.
He lay there beside her bed like a guardian beast, still massive and powerful, but peaceful only in her presence.
She whispered softly:
"You know me… even like this."
The panther's tail flicked lightly, a sign of acknowledgement—maybe even affection.
She pulled a blanket over herself, too afraid to sleep, but also too comforted to move away.
And with the full moon glowing through the window,
the Beast Lord of the Black Panther clan
kept watch beside her
until dawn.
...
Diana woke to the soft glow of early sunlight warming the edges of the room. Her neck felt stiff, and her legs slightly numb from sleeping half-sitting. She shifted—and then froze.
He was there.
Not the panther.
Him.
Human again.
Tall, broad-shouldered, hair tousled against her pillow, breathing slowly like someone exhausted down to the bone.
He had shifted back while lying against her, one arm half-curled around her waist like he had instinctively anchored himself to her through the night.
She stared at him, heart thudding.
He looked… peaceful.
Until his eyelashes flickered.
His eyes opened.
And everything changed in an instant.
A sharp jolt went through him as he realized where he was. He sat up fast, breath catching—then his expression turned to anger so quick it almost hurt to watch.
"How dare you disobey me."
His voice was low, hoarse, still edged with the animal growl from the night before.
He swung his legs off the bed, running a hand through his hair with rage barely contained.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened?" he demanded. "You could have been hurt. Killed. Instinct doesn't care about who you are."
She swallowed, sitting up slowly.
"I—I was worried about you."
His jaw clenched.
Wrong answer.
"That doesn't matter," he said sharply. "You stay in your room when I tell you to. You stay behind the door. You don't—"
His voice broke for a beat as he looked at her.
"You don't come near me when I'm like that."
Silence fell.
He paced once across the room, then stopped, fists tightening.
His eyes dropped to her stomach.
And his voice changed—just slightly—rougher, strained.
"Maybe the only reason you weren't attacked was because you carry my child."
His breathing deepened.
"That bond… instinct recognizes it. But Diana, that doesn't make it safe."
She looked down, touching her stomach protectively.
"I didn't feel unsafe," she whispered.
He stared at her like those words physically hurt him.
"Diana," he said, stepping closer, "this was dangerous. You don't understand what a full moon does to us. I was one breath away from forgetting myself completely." His voice dropped to a shaken whisper.
"From hurting you."
"But you didn't."
He shook his head, eyes narrowing.
"That's not the point."
She softened, voice barely above breath.
"You found me. You stayed with me."
He stopped breathing for a moment.
His gaze flicked to the bed, the pillow, the dents in the blankets where he had curled around her.
A shadow of something raw—fear, confusion, maybe even longing—passed over his features.
He dragged a hand over his face.
"This cannot happen again," he growled, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "I can't— I won't risk you. Or the child."
He exhaled harshly.
"You disobey me again," he said quietly, "and I will lock the entire room down with reinforced security. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
But in her eyes he saw something he wasn't prepared for—
trust.
Warm, steady, unwavering trust.
He felt it like a punch.
His voice softened without him meaning it to.
"…Diana."
She met his gaze.
For the first time since he entered the room, something inside him broke its armor—just a crack.
"I'm angry," he said softly.
"But I'm more terrified than anything."
He had never admitted fear to anyone.
Not even himself.