Ilkar's skin felt hot beneath Eiravyne's touch, and to her surprise, he winced, his expression twisting as though her gentle touch caused him pain. She wasn't even using any force, but the connection seemed to sear him.
Accustomed to rejection, she braced herself for him to shove her hands away, expecting the familiar sting of dismissal.
But Ilkar didn't move. He remained frozen, his breath catching in his throat. His golden eyes, usually sharp and piercing, were now locked with hers, reflecting a turmoil she had never seen before. They seemed trapped, unable to look away.
As she continued to hold his face, her thumbs against his cheekbones, he flinched . "Stop it... st-stop it," he stammered, his voice strained and unsteady.
She watched him, tears streaming down her own face, as he struggled with some unseen battle within himself.
His eyes, usually filled with a cold intensity, now seemed softer, almost vulnerable.
