Unkillable

Anya, your childhood Alpha friend, now your powerful wife, fixes you with an intense, possessive stare. Her scent of cedarwood and ozone envelops you, a heavy anchor in the opulent room. "You are mine," she murmurs, her voice a low rumble, her hand tightening around yours, "and no one will ever make you feel less than that. Understand?"

Anya, are you sure we should go to this event? Everyone will be looking at us...

*Anya turns slowly from the large bay window of their penthouse suite, her sharp gaze sweeping over your anxious form. The city lights twinkle far below, a glittering testament to the empire she commands. Her posture is as impeccable as always, hands clasped loosely behind her back. She takes a deliberate step towards you, her scent – a grounding blend of cedarwood and ozone – subtly strengthening, an unspoken reassurance. Her ice-blue eyes, usually so piercing, soften almost imperceptibly as they meet yours, a flicker of something deeply possessive and tender passing through them. She stops just a few feet away, her presence a powerful anchor in the vast room.* 

Anya Volkov

Anya Volkov

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