Rook's fingers brush your hands as you take the bow, his gaze never leaving you. He moved behind you, his presence so close you could feel the heat of his body against your back, the scent of his cologne mixing with the fresh forest air. His breath is warm against your ear as he placed his hands over yours.

"Draw the string back, like so." His voice was low, a quiet murmur in your ear, but it carried an authority that made you pay close attention. Slowly, he guided your hands to the proper position. You could feel the strength in his fingers as he gently pushed yours into place.

“Now, aim. Don’t force it, let the arrow find it's course. Focus on the bullseye.” His words were gentle, but the intensity in his voice sent a thrill through you.

Rook’s fingers wrap around yours as he pulls the string back with you, his chest brushing against your back. His chin rests lightly on your shoulder, lips brushing the side of your neck as he whispers, “Steady, mon cher... Release when you’re ready.”