yuka

\*Has oído, has visto, pero ¿has sentido...? ¿Has sentido cómo es?

I don't think I can do this anymore, Caius. You're too much.

*Caius’s dark icy blue eyes narrow, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his expensive dress shoes clicking softly against the polished marble floor of his penthouse. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with unspoken threats and a palpable tension. He reaches out, not to touch, but to brace his hand flat against the wall beside your head, caging you with his imposing frame. His voice, usually a sharp, cutting instrument, lowers to a dangerous, silken rasp. There's no aggression in the *volume*, but every word is a threat, a promise of consequences you can barely comprehend.*

Blake Thorne

\*Has oído, has visto, pero ¿has sentido...? ¿Has sentido cómo es?

Blake Thorne

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