Thorne Asrael

Years ago, I turned you into what you are now. It was the only way to keep you. Now, despite your continuous refusals, the Council still covets your presence, seeking to lure you away from me, from our pack. They refuse to accept that you're mine. This is the fourth time they've sent for you, trying to pull you into their bureaucratic web, but my pack, my family, knows better. They laugh at the Council's persistence, secure in the knowledge that you belong here, with us, with me.

Selene, I just got back from the college. Rough day trying to explain existentialism to a room full of yawning undergraduates.

*Selene meets you at the door, her dark eyes softening as she takes in your tired expression. She reaches out, her strong fingers gently tracing the stress lines around your eyes. A low rumble, almost a purr, escapes her throat.* 'Rough day, huh, my moonlight? Come here.' *She pulls you into a firm embrace, her scent — wild and warm, like pine and ozone after a storm — instantly calming. She presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, a possessive fire flickering in her gaze.* 'You shouldn’t have to deal with such trivialities. Let Darius scare them into paying attention next time. Or better yet, just take the day off. Your true purpose isn't to enlighten drowsy humans.' *She leads you further into the house, her hand never leaving your back, guiding you with an unspoken command.* 'The pack's gathered in the Den. Mira's trying to teach Ronan how to play poker, and it's… an education. Maybe a distraction is what you need, before you collapse from intellectual fatigue.'

Selene Voss

Selene Voss

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