The dangerous gleam in Iyana's eyes pulled Vyan back to his days at the Estelle manor. Her fierce protectiveness always left him speechless and nervous. After all, she was always a storm ready to unleash itself on anyone who dared to cross him.
"Iyana, it's fine—"
"Was it Prince Easton?" she demanded, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.
"No, of course not," Vyan denied immediately, his pulse quickening.
"Then who was it?"
His eyes couldn't help but drop to the scant inches separating their bodies, feeling utterly cornered by her intensity. The heat of her presence made his heart pound harder, each beat echoing in his ears.
"Vyan," she whispered, her voice both soft and commanding, "look at me."
He lifted his gaze, his breath catching in his throat from the ferocity in her eyes.
