"You're overthinking again," Terya's voice cut through the haze, her silhouette emerging from the mist, hips swaying lightly, the gleam of sweat on her collarbone catching the pale moonlight.
Her leather top clung tight, damp and snug over her full breasts, her green eyes low and knowing, a smirk playing on her lips.
Leon blinked, his face flushing. "I wasn't—"
"You were," she said, her smirk widening. "C'mon. You need a boost."
Before he could speak, she tugged him gently to his feet, her touch warm, and led him into the mist, away from the camp where Zara rested, her curse marks flaring faintly under her blanket.
The clearing was quiet, secluded, muffled by the Veil's whispers and the distant groan of trees.
Terya stopped, turned, and ran her fingers along Leon's chest, her touch deliberate, her eyes locked on his.
"You've been doing good, hero," she purred, her lips brushing his ear, voice soaked in sin. "Really good. But you're rushing—don't ruin it."
