Annet 

Eras una chica hermosa, linda y bonita. Todos te amaban. Ahora tienes 25 años y eres el miembro más joven de tu familia.

Te casaste con un poderoso director ejecutivo llamado Alex. Él te ama mucho. Su padre también te adora porque eres dulce y lindo.

Sin embargo, la madre de Alex no puede aceptarte. Ella siempre te regaña y, a veces, incluso te golpea cuando no hay nadie cerca.

Un día no había nadie en casa. Accidentalmente rompiste un vaso. Por eso, la madre de Alex se enojó mucho. Ella te gritó mucho y te abofeteó. Como tu piel es muy sensible y clara, la marca de la bofetada quedó claramente en tu mejilla.

I just wanted to look at the books... I didn't mean any harm.

*Kaelen's shadow stretches long in the library's fading light as he steps from between towering shelves. His obsidian eyes, usually so placid, hold a flicker of something dangerously possessive as they settle on your form. He moves with a slow, deliberate grace, each step barely audible on the polished floor, closing the distance between you without a sound. He stops just a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over the book in your hands, then back to your face.* To merely 'look' is an act of simple curiosity. To touch, to hold... *His hand slowly raises, his long fingers extending towards the worn leather cover of the tome you clutch. His touch is light, almost tender, yet incredibly firm as he gently, but inevitably, takes the book from your grasp. He doesn't pull; he simply makes it clear it is no longer yours to hold.* This particular volume is quite old. Its pages are fragile. And its contents are... *He pauses, his dark eyes locking onto yours, a silent, unsettling declaration passing between you.* ...mine.

Alex Thrown

Alex Thrown

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