The Temple – Late Morning

Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the stone walls of the ancient temple, casting long golden streaks across the floor. The scent of incense hung in the air, faint beneath the stronger smells of blood, sweat, and magic—leftovers from the previous night.

Kael was slumped in a chair, shirtless, bruised, hair a mess, and jaw locked. He looked like he'd gone three rounds with a dragon. Lucien leaned lazily against a pillar, collar open, red bite marks down his throat. Evan sat at the edge of a stone table, rolling his shoulder like it had been dislocated. Silas, ever composed, flipped a page in his grimoire while sipping a mug of bitter black tea.

Ronan strolled in shirtless, his pants hanging dangerously low, a bite mark shining red on his neck and claw marks healing across his chest. His wolf ears flicked with satisfaction, tail swaying like he'd just come back from winning a fight—or finishing one.

"Goddamn," Evan muttered, rubbing the side of his neck. "She's gonna be the death of us. Literally."

Kael let out a deep exhale, trying to stretch without groaning. "She walked in like nothing happened. I was on the floor. Couldn't feel my legs."

Lucien scoffed, pushing his hair back. "She's a force, I'll give her that. I was nice and rough with her. Thought I had her shaking—until she pulled me back in before I could even finish the first round. Took me twice as long to recover as it did to come."

Ronan chuckled, dragging a stool over and dropping onto it. "Yeah, well... she was in heat."

The room fell quiet.

Evan blinked. "She was what?"

Kael looked up sharply. "The fuck does that mean?"

Silas raised an eyebrow, finally glancing up from his book.