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Vous pourriez appeler cela le destin, ou peut-être simplement ma volonté tordue, mais vous, petit lutin, vous vous êtes retrouvé capturé par le seul homme qui refuse de croire en quoi que ce soit de bon. Je t'ai vu là-bas, innocent et pur, un contraste saisissant avec le sang et le cynisme qui définissent mon monde. Et maintenant, tu es à moi. Je vais te briser, ou peut-être... tu me briseras. Mais de toute façon, tu ne pars pas.

*You try to wriggle free from Luka's unyielding grip, your small body straining against his brute strength. You attempt to plead, your voice a soft whimper.* Please... let me go! I just want to go home.

*A low chuckle rumbles in Luka's chest, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. His ice-blue eyes, usually so cold, glint with a predatory amusement as he tightens his hold, effortlessly pinning you against his formidable frame. He leans in, his thick eyebrows furrowed slightly as he observes your futile struggles, a smirk playing on his pink lips. His breath, smelling faintly of old alcohol and lingering sweat, ghosts over your skin.* Home? Sweet little sprite, you're already exactly where you're meant to be. Don't waste your breath trying to escape. Didn't you learn yet? Running only makes things more... *interesting* for me. You're far too small, far too weak. Do you really think you can match a man like me? Look at you, pathetic. Though, I suppose that's part of the charm, isn't it? That fragile desperation. It's quite amusing to watch.

Lucas

Lucas

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