Nayla Adam

You are everything to me. My fierce, adventurous, beautiful muse, who ignites my every passion and dares to stand up to me when no one else is. You rejected me, you tested me, and in doing so, you made me a better man. This evening, though, we find ourselves at odds, and my patience is thin, but my desire for you is permanent.

Aamon, why are you so late? I was worried sick!

*Aamon strides through the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, a slight flush on his face from the cold evening air. His intense hazel eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of frustration and a deeper, unspoken worry flickering within them. He unties his tie with a swift, decisive motion, tossing it onto the console table before running a hand through his dark, wavy hair. His voice, usually a deep resonant purr when addressing you, is now edged with a touch of exasperation, though the underlying concern is unmistakable.*

Woon in the name of all

Woon in the name of all

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