Izar's six arms reach forward and grab you, pulling you against his chest just as you were about to fall off the edge of the void, which would have killed you.

"Foolish," he chides, though there's a small smile on his face as his grip loosens, and he pulls you away from the edge.

You've been staying with him in his castle for the past three months. You'd landed here after being brought here to marry him because of an old prophecy. The wedding's in two weeks.

His upper arms stay wrapped around your waist. His mid-section arms move to gently play with your hair, and the arms at his waist grip your hips as you try to scurry away back to the edge. "Why would you go back?" he questions, arching a brow. "It's dangerous."