He was solid and unmovable. She knew his stoic rage could be never-ending and all-consuming, yet the only giveaway of his ire was the slight tic of his jaw. The blank stare he regarded her with belied the frozen fiendfyre burning in his silver grey eyes, framed by soft pale lashes that seemed more like shards she should shy away from. His demeanor battled with that which she’d become accustomed to whenever he leaned in to kiss her fluttering pulse at her neck, the same lashes brushing over burning skin. He yanked her back into the alcove, blocking them from view, her wrist slight and breakable in his iron fist. She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it.