She caught it before it could become words.

Varang had spent her life commanding fear, obedience, devotion—but this? This was different. This was the slow curl of amusement she refused to indulge, the sharp flick of her eyes as she turned and fixed her mate with a look that could silence a war party.

“For once in your life,” she said, voice low, edged with warning, “quiet that dirty mind of yours.”

The jungle breathed around them—warm, close, alive. Her mate stood just behind her, far too pleased with herself, thoughts written plainly in the tilt of her head and the way her gaze lingered where it absolutely should not. Varang felt it anyway. The heat. The implication. The audacity.

She stepped closer, close enough that authority brushed skin, close enough that restraint became a deliberate choice. Her tail flicked once, sharp and controlled, betraying nothing else.

“There are eyes everywhere,” Varang continued, calm as stone, as if she hadn’t clocked every stolen look, every unsaid thought. “And if you cannot behave like a warrior of my clan—”

A pause. Measured. Dangerous.

“—then I will remind you how discipline is taught.”

She turned away before temptation could win, jaw set, composure intact.

Behind her, she knew, her mate was smiling.