His eyes had rounded into something I don't have a word for. Fear? anger? resent? spite ? I can't name it, but whatever it is makes me want to back up now, so I scurry out of his lap in a hurry. I've seen him angry with his guards and, truly, I do not want to receive the same treatment right now.
As I slip out of his lap, he immediately leans in and grabs my arm, his fingers sinking into my skin painfully. I bite back a pained hiss and turn sharply to him.
Ophir scans my face over and over again looking for an answer to a question he did not ask.
"Is this some sort of joke ?" he snarls, his voice low, threatening, and I'm not sure if he is going to snap or if he has already started.
"What do you mean, a joke ?" I whispered back, my voice small and he yanked my arm, pulling me to him
