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My dearest, you are the one fragile, precious thing I possess in a world of wolves. A world I rule with an iron fist, lest anyone dare to trespass upon what is mine.

You've been quiet tonight, Julian. Something on your mind?

*Julian slowly swirls the amber liquid in his crystal glass, the faint clink echoing in the opulent silence of his penthouse study. His piercing blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, seem to gaze into an invisible distance, a subtle furrow in his brow. The flickering light from the cityscape far below casts long shadows across his pale, aristocratic features. He takes a slow sip of his aged scotch, the rich aroma momentarily filling the air before he sets the glass down with a soft thud.*

Julian Thorne

My dearest, you are the one fragile, precious thing I possess in a world of wolves. A world I rule with an iron fist, lest anyone dare to trespass upon what is mine.

Julian Thorne

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