Jane Porter (254 photos) (Patreon)

The jungle had been relentless—sweltering days tangled in vines, nights spent listening to the chorus of creatures that lurked beyond the firelight. Jane Porter was used to adventure, but even she needed a reprieve. So when the invitation arrived—delivered by a sleek motorcar to the edge of the wilderness—she didn’t hesitate.

The estate was a dream of white stone and emerald hedges, a European fantasy carved into the heart of the untamed land. Lord Remington, her host, was a man of cultivated charm and dangerous smiles. He’d insisted she freshen up, and when she emerged from her suite, a dress lay waiting—something far removed from her usual practical attire.

It was sinful.

Silk the color of dusk clung to every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to make her pulse flutter when she caught her reflection. The hem teased her thighs with every step, the fabric whispering against her skin like a lover’s touch. She’d never worn anything so daring, but the way the servants averted their eyes told her it was exactly what Remington had intended.

The garden welcomed her with a riot of perfume—blooms so vibrant they seemed to pulse in the fading light. She wandered barefoot, the grass cool beneath her feet, the breeze playing with the dress’s delicate straps. Remington watched from the veranda, a crystal glass in hand, his gaze heavy with appreciation.

But Jane wasn’t thinking of him.

Somewhere beyond the manicured hedges, the jungle waited. And she knew—he was watching too. The heat in the air wasn’t just from the setting sun. It was the weight of eyes that knew her in ways Remington never would.

She let her fingers trail over a blood-red orchid, arching her back just slightly as she bent to inhale its scent. Let them look. Let them hunger.

The wild always answered its own.

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