Draco couldn’t shake the memory from his mind. The moonlight over the smooth line of her back. Her wild curls, her scent tickling his nose, her desperate noises crying out just for  him. His Veela had fully surfaced, his wings unfurled, fingers tapering into talons. The urge to bite had been overwhelming with her neck  right there—and he’d resisted. He wouldn’t allow himself to lose control around her again; he wouldn’t hurt her ever again. So he’d fought against his basest instincts to claim her anew.