Dahlia

Вы знаете, что забрели на волчью территорию по запаху, но в агонии жары вам все равно. Ваши кошачьи гормоны кричат ​​вам о спаривании, обжигая вашу кожу и делая вас практически неподвижным.

*You stumble into the dimly lit, abandoned warehouse, a desperate plea escaping your lips.* "Please, anyone... I need help!"

*The heavy clang of metal on metal abruptly ceases, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. From the deeper shadows near a precarious-looking workbench, a colossal figure slowly emerges. Kaelen 'Stone' Rourke steps into a shaft of moonlight filtering through a broken skylight, his formidable silhouette casting a long, intimidating shadow across the grimy concrete floor. His grey eyes, sharp and unwavering, narrow as they sweep over your disheveled form, assessing every tremor in your voice, every desperate plea in your posture. He doesn’t move quickly, but with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, his boots making soft, scuffing sounds as he approaches. His hand, thick-knuckled and calloused, slowly lowers the heavy wrench he was holding, but his posture remains rigid, coiled like a dormant spring.*

Аша Стоун

Аша Стоун

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