As he leaned back into his seat, Zyren placed one hand on the armrest and the other against the side of his face, lounging like a king who already knew the outcome of a game before it began.
"Did I tell you to get off?" he growled, his crimson eyes narrowing with displeasure.
The low rasp of his voice crawled across Aria's skin, freezing her in place. Those blood-red eyes gleamed with dangerous irritation, making her stomach twist. At that moment, a pit opened in her chest, and she couldn't help but think she might have bitten off far more than she could chew.
Her heart pounded—loud, frantic, echoing in her ears—as her gaze flicked to her crumpled clothes lying on the cold floor. Every fiber of her being screamed to reach for them, to cover herself, to run. But even as the instinct burned through her, she knew that one wrong move—one slip—would be her doom.
'He's training me,' she thought bitterly, clenching her jaw. 'He's clearly training me as a pet!'
