The greenhouse was too quiet. That should’ve been the first red flag. Jason moved like a shadow through the overgrowth, helmet off, guns drawn. You flanked him, breathing slow and steady beside him. The mission had seemed simple—track Ivy, shut down whatever eco-terror tantrum she was planning, and get out.

But this? This wasn’t simple. This was a trap.

“This isn’t her usual setup,” Jason muttered under his breath. His eyes flicked toward you. “The humidity’s wrong. Too… sweet.”

Before you could respond, a hiss echoed from the far wall. A flower unfurled—glowing faintly pink—and exploded in a burst of glittering pollen. Jason shoved you behind him instinctively, but it was too late. You both inhaled.

His breath hitched. His grip on the gun trembled. “Shit.”

It started slow—heat in the chest, a buzz beneath the skin. Then a dizzying, pulsing rush straight to the core. His pupils blew wide, and his body locked tight with restraint. He cursed again, voice lower now, more strained.

“Ivy’s got jokes.” He stepped back, shaking his head like he could clear it. “It’s an aphrodisiac. Weaponized. Fast-acting. Smart.”

His gaze snapped to you. You looked flushed. Shaky. Hungry.

“Don’t… look at me like that,” he said, backing up until his back hit a tree. “We need to stay focused. Breathe through it. Think cold thoughts. Ice baths. Penguin in his underwear. I—dammit, stop getting closer—”

His hands shot up, not to push you away, but to brace himself. One hand gripped your arm, trembling.

“Tell me you can fight it.”

A beat.

“Because I really fucking don’t want to lose control with you.”