Ilkar's smile remained cold and unyielding as he leaned back, the corners of his lips curving into a sardonic grin.
Eiravyne flinched at the sound of his harsh, sarcastic laughter, her body trembling slightly in response to the intimidating sound.
His powerful hands reached out with deliberate intent, gripping her waist with a firmness that left no room for doubt about his control.
The strength in his fingers was both commanding and assertive, his grip unyielding yet controlled.
Leaning slightly forward, Ilkar's posture radiated dominance.
With measured strength, he began to lift Eiravyne from her seated position on the bed.
His hands slid smoothly around her waist and under her arms, the muscles in his arms tensing as he pulled her upward.
The weight of her body briefly left the bed, her feet momentarily suspended in the air.
Ilkar adjusted her position with practiced precision, turning her so that she faced him.
