"Fina," Allen murmured, voice low like thunder rumbling through the silk-hung chamber.
The catkin was still licking her claws clean of the High Priestess's slick, her golden eyes gleaming with lazy hunger. "Mm?"
"Something's watching us."
Rinni's floppy ears twitched instantly. She peeled herself off Allen's thigh with a wet shlorp and stood unsteadily, thighs sticky and trembling. "Uh oh. Not more spider bitches, right?"
"No," Allen growled, his gaze locked beyond the temple's archway, into the mist-wrapped trees. "Something else."
The jungle outside had gone quiet—no birds, no bugs, no breeze. Just thick, wet heat and a creeping stillness that coiled around the edges of instinct.
The remaining spiderkin priestesses, now drunk on shame and cum, slumped against the columns or clung to one another like broken dolls. None of them noticed the dark shape lurking just beyond the vine-covered threshold. But Allen did.
