She thought of that fleeting glimpse of his silver-white hair just now, and the icy, snow-like chill around him at this moment, and her mind wandered off: could he be some kind of demon spirit?
A demon spirit who took a fancy to her, so he locked her up?
The sharp sting on her wrist snapped Aldana Candi out of her wild imagination. She pressed her lips together and couldn't help saying, "You're hurting me."
She felt him draw in a small breath, then slowly loosen his grip.
"Let me go." Aldana Candi repeated her demand.
He sat on the edge of the bed, arms around her waist, forcing her to sit on his thigh.
This position, with her back to him, made her a little uneasy.
In a low voice, Aldana Candi said, "Whoever you are, I just want to ask you—what exactly do you want? Are you going to keep me locked here for the rest of my life?"
He didn't answer. His posture shifted, lifting his arm slowly, and Aldana Candi felt him pick something up from the coffee table.
