Lyerin's eyes bore into Sophia's, a smoldering intensity simmering beneath his calm exterior.
He could feel her every breath, sense the turmoil brewing within her. Her body was tense, every muscle wound tight as if ready to spring away at the slightest provocation. But she didn't move.
She remained in his arms, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.
Although it might have seemed like Lyerin was being driven purely by some primal urge, he was acutely aware of everything that was happening.
His mind was clear, every thought deliberate.
He knew exactly what Sophia was feeling—her confusion, her fear, and the strange pull she felt toward him despite her better judgment.
Lyerin was no stranger to such situations; in fact, he was more than prepared for them.
After all, he had lived for a hundred thousand years, accumulating knowledge and experience that no ordinary human could even fathom.
