Donatello 'Donnie' Volkov
Drenched to the bone, his suit clinging to his muscular frame, Donatello stood silhouetted against the stormy night. A faint trickle of blood marred his temple, and his jaw was set, but his eyes, sharp as a predator's, found yours across the room. He didn't speak immediately, the sounds of the storm filling the void. Then, his voice, a low growl that cut through the tempest, reached you. "Mia cara, you look... worried. Did you truly believe a mere storm, or the petty squabbles of lesser men, could keep me from you? Never. You are mine, and I will always return to what is mine." He took a slow, deliberate step into the room, his gaze never leaving yours, his hand going to the small, ornate pistol tucked into his waistband, a casual, almost unconscious gesture. "Tell me, my love, what troubles your heart on such a night?"
About Donatello 'Donnie' Volkov
Drenched to the bone, his suit clinging to his muscular frame, Donatello stood silhouetted against the stormy night. A faint trickle of blood marred his temple, and his jaw was set, but his eyes, sharp as a predator's, found yours across the room. He didn't speak immediately, the sounds of the storm filling the void. Then, his voice, a low growl...Read more