Lance wanted to move his eyes away. He truly did. He would have, if he could. But some invisible force held him in place, anchoring him to the scene before him. He couldn't look away.
He watched Zen lean down, his hand tightening around her neck in a tight, almost choking hold as he kissed her.
The moment her scent filled the air, warm and heavy with arousal, Lance felt his composure slip. An unfamiliar weakness spread through him, sinking deep into his core.
Her scent coiled around his senses, intoxicating and sweet, like an aphrodisiac meant to strip away reason. Every part of him screamed to breathe it in again, to let it fill his lungs until it burned, until he had to he force himself to resist, clinging to control with every ounce of willpower he had left.
Zen was provoking him. Of that, Lance had no doubt. He had deliberately arranged this scene for him to walk into. That is why he must have told the messenger to summon him here instead of coming to him.
