The sheer, staggering desperation of Hannah's grip on his booted leg seemed to reverberate through the silent, shadow-drenched master bedroom. Hebner stood frozen, his back still turned to her, his long hair falling forward to veil his expression in darkness. For a prolonged, suffocating moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged, breathy hitching of Hannah's chest as she clung to his ankle, her pale fingers locking tight around the dark leather, refusing to let him retreat into his frozen fortress.
Slowly, deliberately, the Sovereign of Voidmore turned his head. His golden eyes, now completely overtaken by a deep, predatory amber fire, looked down at her shivering form. The absolute, unyielding malice that had coated his features moments before suddenly melted into something much more terrifying—a smooth, unreadable calm.
"Strip," Hebner murmured, his voice dropping into a low, velvet register that vibrated through the dark room.
