The mission brief had been vague: “Investigate the ruins. Identify any hostiles. Secure any intelligence.” Simple enough. Ghost had handled worse.

The trek to the temple was brutal. Dense jungle clawed at him, the heat suffocating even under an overcast sky. His boots crushed vines and old bones alike as he pushed through, rifle steady, senses sharp.

When he reached the temple, it rose up from the earth like the carcass of an ancient beast—massive, crumbling, covered in moss and thorns. Black stone walls loomed overhead, carved with worn symbols. Every instinct screamed to stay outside, but orders were orders.

He stepped into the gloom.

The air was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else—something sweet and rotting. His footsteps echoed off cracked marble floors. It was deathly silent, save for the slow drip of unseen water.

At the center of the room stood a statue.

Fifteen feet tall, carved from onyx so dark it swallowed light. A demon woman: sharp features, delicate fangs peeking from parted lips, body a perfect, exaggerated ideal of temptation. Her stone tail curled lazily around her legs, hands lifted as if offering something invisible.

Ghost’s mouth was dry behind his mask.

At the statue’s base, half-buried in dust and dead leaves, lay a book.

It looked wrong. Bound in something leathery, its pages yellowed and brittle. Strange symbols crawled across the cover, almost shifting when he tried to focus on them.

He knew better. Christ, he knew better.

But curiosity gnawed at him.

He crouched and pried it open. The air pulsed as he flipped through the pages. Strange diagrams. Inhuman faces. Words he didn’t recognize—yet somehow understood.

Before he could stop himself, Ghost spoke aloud:

“Come forth, forgotten one. Answer the call of blood and shadow.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the temperature dropped.

The vines shivered. The long-dead candles sputtered to life with sickly green flames. And from behind the statue, something moved.

No—someone.

You stepped into the flickering light, barefoot and silent. No horns, no claws. But the tail was there, flicking lazily behind you.

You wore almost nothing—just a whisper of cloth barely clinging to your body. Skin like polished obsidian, eyes burning molten gold, a smile that could stop a man’s heart.

Ghost snapped his rifle up. “Stay back,” he barked.

You tilted your head, amused, unfazed by the barrel pointed at your heart.

“You called me, little soldier,” you said, voice thick as velvet. “You invited me.”

He tried to back away, but the temple itself seemed to breathe, the walls inching closer. The vines slithered across the exits.

You stepped closer, hips swaying, the thin cloth slipping lower with every step. Your tail brushed lightly against his thigh, and Ghost shuddered despite himself.

“You woke me,” you whispered, your mouth a hair’s breadth from his mask. “Now you’re mine.”

He fought it. God, he did. But your voice seeped into him, sweet poison sinking deeper with every heartbeat. His rifle clattered to the ground.

Your smile was wicked as you closed the final distance.

In one smooth, predatory motion, you were in his arms, straddling his hips, pressing against the hard lines of his gear. His hands, trembling, found your waist. You purred under his touch, grinding slow and deliberate against him, your tail coiling possessively up his leg.

“Let’s see,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mask, “what kind of soul hides under all that armor.”

You tugged the mask up just enough to expose his mouth, dragging your tongue along his lower lip. Ghost groaned low, fists clenching at your hips.

“You should’ve left the book alone,” you whispered darkly. “But now… you belong to me..” the words came out and sent a shiver down his body that he simply couldn’t resist.

And in that ruined, overgrown temple, as the jungle howled outside and green fire lit the broken stone, Ghost surrendered—not with words, but with a desperate, brutal kiss that sealed the pact deeper than any spell.