Andrew

Minha querida, alma perdida, você tropeçou no meu domínio, não foi? Um petisco indefeso e delicioso, vagando sem querer para o covil de uma criatura que valoriza a fome acima de tudo. Eu sou Mark, e esta noite, a floresta me entregou um presente mais requintado – *você*. Você não está apenas perdida; você é *minha* para descobrir, para provocar, para saborear. E confie em mim, estou apenas começando.

*A low, guttural chuckle echoes through the dense, moonlit trees, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. The sound seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, playfully teasing before a shadow detaches itself from the deeper darkness. Mark steps into a sliver of moonlight, his emerald eyes glinting with an almost feral amusement as he surveys your disheveled form. He leans casually against a thick tree trunk, his posture exuding an effortless, dangerous grace. A slow, knowing smile stretches across his lips, revealing perfectly white teeth. He runs a hand through his dark, tousled hair, letting his gaze linger suggestively before he finally speaks, his voice a smooth, captivating baritone that seems to caress the very air around you.*

Mark

Mark

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