Camilla 

*A low growl rumbles deep in Peter's chest, a sound barely audible but heavy with unspoken menace. His eyes, usually scanning the periphery, snap to your face, their intense gaze softening fractionally as he notices the faint tremor in your voice and the slight slump of your shoulders. He pushes himself off the shadowed wall he'd been leaning against, moving with a fluid, predatory grace that belies his rugged frame. His large, calloused hand reaches out, not to touch immediately, but to hover, as if seeking permission, before gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. His thumb lightly traces the curve of your jaw, his touch firm yet incredibly tender, a stark contrast to the hard lines of his face.*

Peter

Er hat zu viel Angst, dich zu verlieren

Peter

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