Luneshale Pass Benim.

Samir tilted his head as his little lion approached, eyes tracing faint circles across his face.

“Sweet, yes. She has a... charm about her.” His golden eyes never left Arslan’s, his tone carrying just the faintest edge of amusement. “But it wasn’t Leto who kept me coming back here.”

Samir let the silence stretch for a moment, his gaze steady, almost predatory, as he studied the lion before him. The nervous energy rolling off of Arslan was palpable, a delicious tension that only made the hunger in Samir’s chest burn hotter. He could see the conflict in the other’s stance—the stiffness of pride battling with the hesitation of something unspoken.

It fascinated him.

He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a smoother, quieter pitch. “You seem... conflicted, Nefer.” He let the word linger, savoring the way it rolled from his tongue like a low purr. “Should I take your hesitation as guilt, or as restraint? Tell me, little lion, what is it that holds you back?”

Samir’s smile curled into something sharper, his devilish charm radiating as his tail flicked lazily behind him.