Tianlong's gaze shifted from Yu Xiang's cum-drunk expression to Akane, whose fox ears twitched as she stood trembling at the bedside. Her golden eyes flickered—caught between shame and something darker, needier—before naturally drifting toward Sylvea.
The elven woman stood frozen near the carved wooden bedpost, both hands still pressed against her mouth, green eyes wide as dinner plates. Her entire face burned crimson, chest heaving beneath her silk robe.
Tianlong's hand shot out, fingers gripping Akane's chin. He turned her face back toward him with firm pressure, forcing those golden eyes to meet his crimson-gold stare.
"Remove your clothes, Akane."
His voice was calm. Direct. Not a request.
Akane's breath hitched. Her ears flattened completely against her white hair, nine tails swishing behind her in agitated waves. But she nodded—a small, submissive dip of her head—before her trembling fingers moved to the sash of her crimson and white robe.
