Rosewater Oasis Pretty Boy

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Samirseti’s low, sardonic laugh rolled out, curling outwards. It was one devoid of humor, sharp and cruel, as his molten gold eyes flicked toward the bitch who tread on him.

The insult did not go unnoticed, though it was poorly veiled as bewilderment. Samir’s gaze sharpened, cutting through Beau with the intensity of a blade. For a beat, he was silent. Staring. He spoke.

Then, without warning, the black and gold panther moved.

His jaws unhinged, his legs coiling beneath him with practiced precision, every ounce of lean muscle taut as a bowstring. Samir moved like a shadow, graceful yet lethal, his movements measured, practiced.

He struck like a dancer wielding a sword.

The distance between them vanished in an instant as he lunged for Beau, a snarl ripping free from his throat. His intent was clear—not to kill outright, but to make him understand.

Trespassing on his lands, daring to speak so boldly to his lion and him—these actions required swift correction.