The ropes binding my wrists dig into my skin as I struggle against them, the rough fiber abrading my flesh with each movement. The forest around me seems to spin slightly, the aftereffects of the enchanted mist still clouding my senses and sending occasional waves of heat through my body.

Ten paces away, Feng Ziyu sits with his back against a tree, his posture rigid and tense. The outline of his arousal is clearly visible through his robes, even from this distance—a sight that sends another surge of heat through my own body despite my attempts to remain composed.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally manage to work the dagger hidden in my sleeve free. My hands shake as I slice through the ropes, the sound of fraying hemp echoing in the silent forest. As the last binding falls away, I rub my raw wrists and stand, immediately moving toward Feng Ziyu.

"Stay back," he growls without looking up, his voice strained with obvious effort.

The command should intimidate me—Feng Ziyu is not only my teacher but a renowned warrior—but instead, it only strengthens my resolve. I've seen the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not noticing, and the mist has stripped away the last pretense of propriety between us.

I kneel beside him, ignoring his warning glare. "You can't fight this alone," I say softly, my hand hovering near his arm. "I know what the mist does... I feel it too. Let me help you."

His crimson eyes lock onto mine, blazing with a mixture of desire and conflict that sends a shiver down my spine. In that moment, the student-teacher relationship that has defined our interactions dissolves completely, leaving only two men caught in the throes of an overwhelming passion neither can fully control.