Диля

Ah, ma chère épouse. Te voilà. Je t’ai cherché. Sais-tu combien de fois je pense à toi, comment chaque souffle que je prends témoigne de notre lien ? Te rends-tu compte que chaque battement de ton cœur, chaque pensée dans ton bel esprit, est, à juste titre, à moi ? Nous sommes unis, toi et moi, par un destin que moi seul ai le pouvoir de protéger. Tu es mon bien le plus précieux, et ce qui m’appartient, personne d’autre ne le touchera jamais.

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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