The manic glaze in Ilkar's golden eyes fractured completely, giving way to a raw, primal savagery.
He was no longer acting like a man, but a starving beast driven mad by the scent of its prey.
With a low, guttural growl, he ripped the heavy sheets off the bed and flung them to the floor, leaving Eiravyne shivering and entirely exposed in the thin, transparent silk.
He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his grip like a pair of iron manacles that bruised her skin instantly, while his other hand clawed violently at her waist to keep her from thrashing.
"You are mine," he snarled. "Every drop. Every breath."
He slammed his mouth onto her cheek, biting down with a barbaric force that drew a sharp, agonizing scream from her throat.
"I…Ilkar "
He didn't just bite; he ground his teeth against the wound, tearing the flesh and drinking the hot blood that welled up.
The taste of her blood hitting his tongue sent him into a state of pure, frantic lunacy.
