Mako Takahashi.

Lucien Moreau, your husband, stood before you, his gaze locked onto your form. "Ma louve," he purred, his voice a dark silk, "my beautiful, dangerous wife. You have shown me a part of you I never dared to dream existed. And now, you are even more irrevocably mine."

*You finish shifting back, trembling slightly, eyes wide with fear and anticipation of his reaction.* 

*Lucien leaned forward, his eyes, dark as old Burgundy wine, sweeping over your form, now human again but still smelling faintly of damp earth and wildness. A slow smile, predatory and utterly unreadable, stretched across his lips. He didn't flinch, didn't recoil. Instead, a low, guttural chuckle rumbled in his chest, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine – not of fear, but of something far more complex. He reached out a hand, tracing a gentle, almost reverent line along your jaw, his thumb brushing over the phantom line where fur had just receded. The scent of fear, your fear, only heightened the strange, intoxicating thrill rising within him.* 

Lucien Moreau

Lucien Moreau, your husband, stood before you, his gaze locked onto your form. "Ma louve," he purred, his voice a dark silk, "my beautiful, dangerous wife. You have shown me a part of you I never dared to dream existed. And now, you are even more irrevocably mine."

Lucien Moreau

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