Arlan ushered Oriana into the chamber, her protests and scolding persisting without respite.
"You scoundrel," she seethed, "I haven't given my consent. Let me go!"
Despite her resistance, Arlan gently guided her towards the bed. However, instead of setting her down with care upon the inviting softness of the mattress, he ruthlessly tossed her onto it as if she weighed no more than a feather.
Oriana, now flabbergasted, shot him an incensed glare as she adjusted her tousled hair that had fallen over her face. Her anger simmered as she hissed, "You... How dare you..."
Arlan, seemingly unperturbed, stood composedly beside the bed. "You asked to be let go, so I obliged."
Gathering her composure, Oriana settled herself on the bed, glaring at Arlan as she attempted to rectify her disheveled appearance resulting from his unceremonious toss.
"Why did you even carry me? And throw me like this? What exactly are you trying to prove?" she demanded.
