He wanted to do it more than anything—to gather her up, to hide her away where no one else could reach her—but he knew he never could.
"Because I understand this, Rory," Yuel said quietly, his voice steady but filled with feeling. "You don’t belong to alone. If I ever locked you away, even with love, you would stop being yourself."
He looked at Rory the way one might look at sothing sacred—sothing fragile, precious, and utterly irreplaceable.
"My Rory should belong to herself first," he continued softly. "Only after that... can she choose ."
For her, he was willing to bury every trace of jealousy, every dark, possessive thought that stirred in his heart. He would rather beco a gentle vine that supported her, that curled around her waist protectively, than a cage that trapped her against her will.
Rory suddenly shifted, rolling over in one smooth motion and pinning him beneath her.
Before he could react, her fingers were already working at the buttons of his shirt, one by one, slow and deliberate.
"Yuel," she said, her voice low and teasing, "I swear, I feel like I’m going to devour you right now."
It was almost unfair—how he knew exactly what to say, exactly how to look at her, to make her heart race like this.
Falling for him felt inevitable.
Yuel didn’t move at all. He let her pull his shirt open, let it slide from his shoulders and fall uselessly to the floor.
"Rory," he murmured, eyes dark with devotion, "you can do anything you want to . I won’t resist. Not ever."
If she truly decided to take him right then and there, he wouldn’t stop her—not for a second.
Rory stared at him, at the faint smile tugging at his lips, and swallowed.
Then—abruptly—she grabbed the blanket, yanked it up, and covered him completely.
"Stop tempting ," she said firmly. "I can’t devour you yet."
A strange sense of triumph filled her chest. Last ti, she’d been the one flustered and overwheld. This ti, she’d been the one to push him first.
Under the blanket, Yuel looked utterly crestfallen.
Another quiet spike of jealousy twisted in his chest—this ti aid squarely at Jasper.
He caught her wrist gently and tugged until she fell back against him, her head resting on his chest.
"So when will you devour , Rory?" he asked, half-teasing, half-pleading. "I’m not known for my patience."
Rory stayed quiet.
She honestly didn’t know the answer.
That mont would have to wait—at least until Jasper advanced to the next rank.
When she didn’t respond, Yuel poked her cheek in protest.
"Rory," he complained softly, "you promised Jasper he’d be first. And even that silly Nix sohow secured second place. But when it cos to , you just go silent?"
He rolled them gently so she was beneath him now, resting his forehead against hers.
"I know I can’t compete with those two," he continued, his tone subdued but sincere. "They were with you first. You already care for them. But the others—there’s no way they rank above , right?"
He hesitated, then added with exaggerated hurt, "Or... do you actually not like ?"
"No! Of course I like you," Rory said imdiately. "How could I not?"
The truth was, she liked him far too much.
Dangerously so.
He was entirely too good at this.
"I promise," she said at last, finally giving in with a soft, weary sigh. "Just... stop talking, or I’m going to start feeling guilty."
Yuel’s expression lit up instantly, as though a switch had been flipped. His smile blood radiant and unapologetic, practically glowing with satisfaction.
"I knew it," he said smugly. "You want too."
He had wanted to say all of this earlier—every shaless word of it—but right after the Blood Moon incident at the Interstellar Hunter Alliance, she hadn’t been in the right state of mind. The weight on her shoulders had been too heavy already. He hadn’t wanted to add to it.
Now, though?
Now she was smiling again.
And he had no intention of wasting the mont.
Rory eyed his far-too-pleased expression, then leaned in and bit his cheek hard enough to leave two neat rows of teeth marks behind.
Yuel did not flinch. Not even a little.
If anything, his eyes sparkled with open delight.
He leaned closer, tilting his head as if silently inviting her to do it again.
Rory shoved his face away, heat creeping up her neck, then asked—curiosity finally winning out over restraint, "Earlier, when you said you wanted to lock up... what did you actually an?"
She hesitated, then added quickly, almost flustered, "I an—not that I want that. I was just... curious."
Yuel blinked once.
Then his grin spread—slow, bright, and dangerous enough that it practically glowed.
"Rory... are you saying you like that idea too? Who would have thought?"
"No! I don’t! Don’t twist my words," Rory protested, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth.
He nodded obediently, eyes wide and innocent, and she finally let go.
Then he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. Soft vines erged, curling loosely around her waist—not restraining, just present.
"I once found a very remote planet," he whispered near her ear. "Barren. Forgotten. No therian has ever set foot there. I thought... I could hide you there. Build you a ho with my vines—larger than the wooden cabin at the Alliance. Fill it with everything you love."
His voice grew softer, more intimate.
"You’d live within my vines. Every movent you made, I’d feel it. Every breath, every step—I’d know instantly."
It was unsettling.
And yet... strangely tempting.
Rory slapped her hand over his mouth again. "That’s a very nice fantasy," she said firmly, "but let’s stop thinking about it, okay?"
Yuel blinked up at her, perfectly innocent.
She was such a contradiction—rejecting the idea aloud, while her heartbeat told a different story.
He could feel it.
She liked the thought more than she was willing to admit.
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