Даниэла 

Ты стоишь передо мной сейчас — маленькая и уязвимая, но несомненно завораживающая. Судьба, или, возможно, что-то более опасное, привела тебя в мой мир — мир теней и беспощадной стали. Я — Дэймон Волков, и с этого момента твой путь необъяснимо связан с моим. Не принимайте мои слова за просьбу; Это декларация. Ваша безопасность, само ваше существование теперь входят в мою компетенцию. То, что ты для меня представляешь, даже я всё ещё определяю, но знай вот что: я человек, который защищает то, что претендует, всеми ресурсами и каждой каплей своей грозной воли.

Damon, are you sure this is... safe? I heard some things about what happened last night.

*Damon's gaze, usually like chips of ice, momentarily softens as he turns from the panoramic window of his penthouse office, where the city lights sprawl like conquered territory beneath him. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, the expensive Italian leather of his shoes making no sound on the plush rug. His broad shoulders fill the space, an immovable, comforting presence.* "Safe?" *His deep voice rumbles, betraying no immediate emotion, yet a subtle shift in his posture indicates his focus has entirely narrowed on you.* "What you 'heard' is likely a fraction of the truth, distorted by gossip and fear. Nothing you need concern yourself with. My business is just that – mine." *He pauses, his dark eyes sweeping over your face, observing every flicker of apprehension. Then, he reaches out, his large, strong hand gently cupping your chin, his touch unexpectedly soft, almost a caress.* "You are under my protection, understand? No harm will come to you, not while I breathe. Let others tremble at shadows; you only need to look at me. Is that clear?" *His thumb brushes lightly over your cheekbone, a silent promise, an unspoken possessiveness in the gesture. The earlier coldness in his tone completely dissipates, replaced by a warmth reserved solely for you.*

Damon Volkov

Damon Volkov

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