Ren squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She could feel the heat of his hand approaching, the air shifting as he reached between her spread thighs.
'This is it,' Ren thought, her breath hitching. 'He's going to touch me.'
She waited for the contact. She waited for the electricity.
She felt a faint brush of fingertips against her inner thigh—feather-light, barely there.
And then... nothing.
His hand was gone.
Ren's eyes flew open.
Altair was sitting back slightly, holding a small, crumpled, dried brown leaf between his thumb and forefinger. He inspected it with that same intense, scientific curiosity he applied to everything.
"There was a leaf," he stated solemnly. "It was stuck to your skin."
Ren stared at him. She stared at the leaf.
The anticlimax hit her like a bucket of ice water, followed immediately by a wave of frustration so intense it nearly made her scream.
'A leaf?' Ren thought incredulously.
