Seeing the young man obviously spacing out, Ilyan coughed lightly to clear his throat.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked with a warm smile.
Raniel didn't answer. Instead, he rose from the chair abruptly.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded, fury evident in his tone.
Ilyan blinked, caught off guard by the sudden hostility.
"I just want to be friends with my mate—" He instinctively reached for Raniel's hand.
The reaction was immediate. Raniel stepped back as though burned. Unfortunately, he forgot about the chair behind him. His leg struck it, throwing off his balance, and he fell onto his back with a painful thud.
The silver-haired young man looked up, gritting his teeth.
This man was infuriating.
"I-I apologize," Ilyan said hurriedly, panic flashing across his face. "I didn't mean to scare you." He immediately extended a hand toward Raniel, lowering himself.
