Before sleep claimed her that night, Eiravyne felt a strange, unsettling sensation in her stomach.
The memory of Ilkar's tongue licking that forbidden spot on her shoulder played over and over in her mind, an endless hot cycle that she couldn't escape.
Now, alone in her room, she had all the time in the world to battle the elusive sleep, but the feeling, the fuzziness, and the trembling in her stomach made no sense.
His actions were unlike anything she had ever experienced, especially from someone like Alfonso Romani.
Ilkar hadn't inflicted any physical pain on her, but the discomfort ran deeper.
She bit her lip nervously, her mind replaying the moment in vivid detail—the heat of his breath, the wet trail of his tongue, the possessiveness in his voice.
As these images surged through her thoughts, Eiravyne sighed heavily, almost breathless from the intensity of her emotions.
