Eiravyne lay in her bed, sleep finally beginning to claim her after the nerve-wracking dinner and the weight of her confusion.
The silence of the mansion was thick, only the faintest sounds of the night seeping through her window.
She drifted into a restless slumber, but it wasn’t long before something pulled her back to consciousness.
She felt a presence close to her, and her eyes fluttered open, her heart skipping a beat in panic.
Ilkar was sitting next to her, his fingers touching her still-injured lip.
Eiravyne’s lips trembled as she stuttered, “Th-the Duke!”
His glowing eyes were unmistakably filled with intensity, their golden hue piercing through the dim light.
“Sleeping peacefully, huh! ” he remarked, his voice a low murmur.
His thumb brushed over her lip, sending a shiver down her spine.
Eiravyne’s heart raced, her mind struggling to process the situation.
“W-what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Ilkar’s unwavering gaze bore into her as he spoke, his voice cutting through the silence.
“Are you playing dumb, Eira?” The use of her name in such a manner made her heart skip a beat.
“Eira,” she thought, her name spoken with an intensity that shook her to the core.
In all her life, no one had ever addressed her using this abbreviation.
She looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty, and managed to stutter, “I-I d-don’t understand.”
Ilkar sighed softly, his gaze unrelenting as he pressed his thumb against the injury on her lip, twisting it slightly to make her wince in pain.
As she recoiled, he leaned in closer, his voice low and chilling.
“Your daddy… When he spoke of all those terrifying stories about me, did he not tell you what you truly are?” His words dripped with disdain and a hint of mockery, a reminder of the dark reputation that preceded him.
Eiravyne’s breath caught in her throat, the pain in her lip compounded by the weight of his words, stirring up a mix of fear and confusion about her own identity. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Ilkar scrutinized her lips intently, observing her reactions with calculated precision.
Then, he abruptly seized her waist, preventing any attempt to escape, and remarked, “Did he forget to tell you the most important aspect of it all? Or perhaps you enjoy feigning ignorance for attention, Eira!”
His words were laced with a cold edge, emphasizing his control and disdain for any perceived ignorance or innocence on her part.
Eiravyne felt a surge of apprehension at his firm grip and the sharpness in his tone.
When he mentioned her father, Eiravyne felt her fragile world shatter into countless pieces.
Her father, a man of few words, had only spoken to her about Ilkar—urging her to escape or even kill him if the opportunity arose.
Yet, his lack of affection towards her had always been evident, though she had been too blind to see it.
Now, his words on the day he was murdered echoed in her ears, leaving her gasping for breath amidst tears that blurred her vision.
“He told me to kill you if I get the chance,” she confessed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and sorrow.
It was a revelation she hadn’t intended to share, but in that moment, it felt like the most potent secret she needed to unburden herself from.
She raised her arm to shield her eyes, seeking solace in a moment of quiet tears.
But Ilkar’s response shattered the fragile peace she sought.
His voice cut through the air with a commanding force that made her whole body tense.
“I know this… I know how badly you want to kill me,” he declared, his words laced with a chilling certainty.
“But don’t you dare fabricate information. You know who you are, Eira. Just say it, or I may have to make you understand in a way you won’t forget.”
His threat hung heavy in the air, suffocating any hope of escape or defiance.
Her petite body trembled in fear within his unyielding grasp.
Every nerve was on edge, her muscles tense as she felt his strong fingers tighten around her arm.
She could feel the heat of his breath on her face as he leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming.
Eiravyne’s heart pounded in her chest, her breaths shallow and rapid.
She was acutely aware of every subtle movement he made, every shift in his expression, as if trying to anticipate his next move.
“What do you want me to say? I’ll say it,” she replied, her voice tinged with obedience and a hint of desperation.
His jaw tightened with a heavy sigh, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders tensed.
The cold, aloof demeanor he usually carried was stripped away, replaced by a simmering anger that radiated from him like heat from a furnace.
Eiravyne sensed she had crossed a line, her stomach churning with unease as she watched him urgently unbutton his shirt.
Each movement seemed deliberate, as if he were preparing for a battle.
He slipped closer until he was looming over her, his eyes flashing like a storm on the horizon, dark and intense.
He discarded his shirt, letting it fall to the ground in a careless heap.
In the dim light, his body was revealed to her in a way she had never imagined.
He loomed over her, his frame towering compared to her petite form, emphasizing the stark contrast in their sizes.
His chest bore a tapestry of tattoos and scars, each marking a story she knew nothing about.
The tattoos, dark and intricate, seemed to twist and coil with the contours of his muscles, adding to the allure of his rugged appearance.
She immediately closed her eyes in shock, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.
Stuttering, she pleaded, “I-I… please… I will tell you anything you want… just… just don’t…”
Her body trembled with fear .Stammering, she managed to whisper, “I-I’m so scared… Please… don’t…”