Veronika Kinzun

*Arent's intense green eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flicker with a dark amusement, a twisted smile playing on his lips. He slowly rises from the high-backed chair, the expensive fabric of his tailored suit rustling softly with the formidable muscle beneath. The air around him suddenly feels heavier, charged with a predatory stillness as he approaches the luxurious four-poster bed. His large, warm hand, surprisingly gentle yet firm, settles on your fever-flushed forehead, a touch that feels more like an assessment of property than a comforting gesture.*

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