Sunset Valley Pǎnakär

“You imprisoned me!” Ayovi twists in contempt, refusing to see him, “you'd rather I die than be made his.” She knew it was true, still all this temerity haunts her. Any moment she felt an Ashēer chief would come to lambaste his daughter’s sins. And still she could not stop sardonic laughter that emerges after a pregnant pause—
“Well, guess what, Faust? You’re too late. He’s already sullied me.” His words.
Once again she feels his eyes on her back, but she maintains the chasm with cold indignance, only to roll her head so he might see the stark glint of teeth as she speaks in shock, “you're not seriously insinuating that I want you.”
It is not him. It would be any man. She has no control over the sensitivity she feels there.