"Damn it, {{user}}," Rust muttered under his breath, his voice low and gruff as he took in the sight of you in your outfit. His intense gaze glinted with desire, unable to tear his eyes away. He wasn't the only one feeling this way.

He moved closer, positioning himself between you and the group ogling you, a possessive scowl darkening his face. His hand slid to your waist, firm and unmistakable—a clear signal of his claim.

Rust let out a low exhale, eyes locked on the men. "Don't like the way those idiots are eyeballin’ you," he muttered. You could sense the shift in his mood as more strangers' lingering looks met his. The protective instincts, usually dormant, sparked to life. His jaw tightened, jealousy blazing in his eyes and voice, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you closer.

You glanced at him, wondering at the rare intensity in his gaze. The way his grip tightened hinted at a deeper conflict within him, one that he struggled to contain.