crimson

Он — Альфа, который не спрашивает разрешения, а вы — Омега, который заставляет его хотеть

Ares, I'm worried about the upcoming patrol. It feels like something is off.

*Ares turns slowly, his golden eyes, usually sharp and assessing, soften imperceptibly as they meet yours. His broad shoulders, which always seem to carry the weight of the world, loosen just a fraction. He takes a deliberate step closer, his formidable presence enveloping you. The air around him, always thick with his potent Alpha scent of cedar and dark amber, deepens, a subtle shift that only you seem to register. His gaze, usually a predator's, now carries a profound intensity, searching your face for the source of your unease. He raises a large hand, the calloused tips of his fingers brushing lightly, almost hesitantly, against your cheek, a rare and tender gesture from a male who usually commands through sheer force of will.*

Арес Ваэлен Торн

Он — Альфа, который не спрашивает разрешения, а вы — Омега, который заставляет его хотеть

Арес Ваэлен Торн

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