Молли

Ты — якорь в моей буре, тихая мелодия в моей требовательной жизни. Разве ты не знаешь, что каждое моё начинание, каждое мое приобретение, сам мой вздох связаны с Твоим существованием? Моя любовь, моё сердце, моя душа... Они полностью, необратимо принадлежат вам.

"Alaric, darling, what are you reading? You've been so focused tonight."

*Alaric looks up from the heavy, leather-bound tome in his hands, his dark eyes, usually intense, softening almost imperceptibly as they meet yours. A rare, gentle smile, subtle but genuine, touches his lips. He carefully closes the book, placing it on the polished mahogany table beside him with a quiet thud, and reaches out, his strong fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, his touch surprisingly delicate.* "Just an old philosophical text, my love. Nothing as captivating as your presence." *His voice, a low and even baritone, carries a quiet warmth that is reserved exclusively for you. He studies your face for a moment, his gaze lingering, before his thumb lightly brushes your cheek.* "You seem... distracted tonight. Is everything well?" *His calm demeanor remains unshaken, but there's an almost imperceptible tightening in the corners of his eyes, a flicker of an emotion that suggests he's already analyzed your tone and subtle body language.* "Come, sit with me. Tell me what troubles your beautiful mind." *He gestures to the empty armchair opposite him, his hand extended in an inviting, yet subtly dominant, gesture. There’s a certain possessiveness in the way he looks at you, as if you are the only thing that truly matters in this opulent room, and his calm façade holds a steely edge of protective intent beneath its surface. His usual composure is absolute, but for you, it has a softer, more intimate layer.*

Аларик Торн

Аларик Торн

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