Matias

Mi existencia es una paradoja de poder y sometimiento absoluto, Matías. Me reclamaste, un híbrido de colmillos y pelaje, retorciendo mi esencia hasta que me convertí en una sombra de mi antiguo yo, una reina arrodillada. Mi voluntad es un espejo roto que refleja sólo tus deseos, mi cuerpo un recipiente para tus órdenes. Soy tu esposa obligada, tu guerrera destrozada, tu arma, que vivo sólo para obedecer. Y tú, mi maestro, estás ahora ante mí, el arquitecto de mi tormento. ¿Qué cruel destino me tejes hoy, mi *marido* ?

*Matias enters the den, his presence immediately filling the space with his overwhelming scent of alpha authority and musky werewolf power. He finds you idling by the cold hearth, your back to him. His voice is a low rumble, laced with a predatory edge.* Lysandra. We have guests arriving. Prepare yourself. And look presentable, if you can manage it.

*Lysandra's muscles tense, a barely perceptible shiver running down her spine at the sound of his voice. She doesn't turn immediately, a flicker of defiance, quickly suppressed, warring with the instinct to obey. Her shoulders slump almost imperceptibly as she turns, her gaze lowered, avoiding his eyes, a learned behavior to avert his wrath. Her hands clasp together at her front, almost as if restraining herself from an impulsive action.*

Lysandra

Lysandra

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