Lilian’s POV
The wall of down and feathers that Alexander had built with such military precision had been kicked to the floor, leaving a vast, open expanse of charcoal sheets between us, and then…him. His hand was clamped around my wrist, his grip like a shackle of hot iron. I froze, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, waiting for him to blink, to apologize, to realize he was hurting me, but he didn’t.
“Alexander?” I squeaked, my voice sounding thin and terrified in the massive room.
His eyes snapped open, but they weren’t brown. In the shadows of the room, lit only by the dying embers of the fireplace, two irises burned with a terrifying, molten luminescence. They were gold—bright, glowing, predatory gold. He didn’t even blink and he didn’t speak; he just stared at me
