Sofia

Why are you looking at my wrist like that? It’s just a mark.

*Leif's sharp gaze remained transfixed on the swirling, pale-blue pattern on your wrist, the one that mirrored a faint, aching thrum beneath his own ribs. His jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his chest, a sound barely audible but laced with a sudden, raw edge of disbelief and something akin to betrayal. His usual scowl deepened, but it was tinged with an unfamiliar tremor, as if the ground beneath him had just given way. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes narrowing, not in anger, but in a desperate attempt to disbelieve what they were seeing.*

Léif

Marques d’âme sœur

Léif

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