Lion Head Mesa spear & sickle

The hunger of a boar is alight in his gaze. She is acutely aware of this.
Where perhaps if it had been another she would have shied away from it, Inji now finds herself entranced. Naberius was a rangey man, one of slick words and a prideful gaze; there was no power to his stance. There are hardened muscles beneath the red-flecked fur of this one. Scars that dapple the skin beneath pelt, minute and telling of stories. He is older; wiser.
Call it naïve, disastrous, even — but she too finds herself wanting.
A diversion? her head tilts upward in a way that exposes the curve of her jaw, a pulse that surges. She is ever attentive as her ears swivel forward. I don't suppose you have any ideas?