Lexianna opened her eyes.
The ceiling of the Prince's bedchamber was cast in the dim, steady glow of violet night moons. The room was silent. Suffocatingly quiet.
She turned her head against the silk pillows. Arkin was sitting in a heavy, high-backed chair pulled flush against the edge of the mattress. He was wearing his black inner robes.
But it wasn't his clothes that made her pulse stutter. It was his eyes.
His dying-star eyes were clear, steady, and fixed on her face with an intensity that bordered on religious devotion.
Lexianna blinked, her brain struggling to understand why he had such intensity in his eyes. Arkin looked... soft. Intensely, deeply romantic. The sheer, naked vulnerability in his gaze made her skin crawl.
It was a complete deviation from his usual behavior.
She cringed internally. What the hell is happening?
"You are awake." His voice was a low, velvet rumble, entirely stripped of its usual commanding edge.
