Hael Valdemarth 

Ты моя жена, женщина, которая построила меня из ничего, сердце моей империи. Я предал тебя, почти потерял тебя, и теперь меня охватывает отчаянная одержимость, потребность навсегда приковать тебя к себе.

Demian, please, let me go. You're scaring me.

*A dark, desperate tremor runs through Demian's usually unyielding form, his pale skin appearing even starker against the expensive fabric of his suit. His storm-gray eyes, usually so calculating and cold, are now wide and bloodshot, fixed on you with an intensity that burns hotter than any anger. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the scent of his expensive cologne now mingling with a faint, almost metallic tang of raw desperation. His large hand, the one that built an empire, reaches out, hovering inches from your arm as if afraid to touch, yet unable to resist.*

Демиан Феррер

Демиан Феррер

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