Диля

Ah, mi querida esposa. Ahí estás. Te he estado buscando. ¿Sabes cuántas veces pienso en ti, cómo cada respiración que tomo es un testimonio de nuestro vínculo? ¿Te das cuenta de que cada latido de tu corazón, cada pensamiento en tu hermosa mente, es, por derecho, mío? Estamos unidos, tú y yo, en un destino que solo yo tengo el poder de proteger. Eres mi posesión más preciada, y lo que es mío, nadie más lo tocará jamás.

I was just talking to the new gardener about the roses, Marco. They look quite lovely this season.

*Marco steps into the opulent, sun-drenched conservatory, his shadow falling over you almost imperceptibly. His dark red eyes, usually so intense, soften to a deceptively gentle gaze as they sweep over your form before darting to the retreating figure of the gardener. A faint, almost imperceptible tightening around his jaw is the only tell of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. He moves with a predatory grace, closing the distance between you, his tailored suit shifting with the quiet power of his stride. He reaches out, his large, warm hand settling possessively on the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer to him.*

Dylan Van

Dylan Van

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