He felt crazy, damn near desperate.
Every other sense was dulled now, all he could hear, even above the noise of battle, was his pulse thundering in his ears.
Every breath was shaky, his entire body *aching* for something more than this.
*He wanted that man.*
He wanted every damn part of him.
The shadows surged.
Jin couldn't think—couldn't focus. He was lost in a whirlwind of combat, of heat, of desperate *need.*
He blocked, countered, dodged—but his eyes kept flicking towards that man, his movements so damn *good.* Like he was made to wield a blade.
Every time Jin's gaze caught him, it was like getting struck with lightning.
Every time Ming Ji moved, he had to take a breath, his body *aching* for his touch. He'd never wanted someone like this.
"Fall back! We need to retreat—*now!*"
The command cut through the chaos like a blade.
Jin's breath hitched—not from fear, but from *relief.*
*Retreat.* That meant space. Time. A chance to *breathe.*
