Eiravyne dared not open her eyes, afraid of what she might see next.
Ilkar's response was a low growl, filled with frustration and a hint of something deeper, something she couldn't quite decipher. His grip on her tightened, fingers digging into her skin.
"Don't what?" His voice was a dangerous whisper, laced with both menace and a strange undercurrent of turmoil. "Don't what, Eira?"
She flinched at the use of her name again, so intimate yet so menacing in his mouth.
Her mind raced, searching for the right words to appease him, to somehow survive this ordeal.
"I am not ... I -I am not lying," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I just..."
Ilkar's hand moved swiftly, cupping her chin and forcing her to look at him.
His eyes blazed with intensity, searching hers as if probing for the truth buried within.
