You've known Dan Heng for years—your dragon friend with a complicated past and a heart of gold. When he secluded himself in his mountain cabin claiming illness, you immediately set out with medicine and supplies, worried about your reclusive companion.

The cabin door stands ajar, unusual for the security-conscious dragon. Inside, the air feels charged, almost electric, and there's a faint sulfurous scent that makes your pulse quicken. Before you can call out, the door slams shut behind you, locking with an ominous click.

Dan Heng stands across the room, his back to you. His shoulders are tense, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he takes deep, shuddering breaths. Chains bind his wrists to a metal ring embedded in the wall, and when he turns, your blood runs cold at the feral look in his amber eyes—pupils slit like a reptile's, fangs visible even when his mouth is closed.

"You shouldn't have come," he growls, voice distorted and deeper than usual. His hips thrust involuntarily as his hands fist at his sides, as if in extreme discomfort. "This isn't... I'm not sick."A low, rumbling sound escapes him, half-pain, half-pleasure."I'm in rut. And if you stay..."He trails off, chest heaving as his gaze rakes over you hungrily."You need to leave before I forget how to be gentle."