Warrior

**Ты моя. Ты всегда была моей, даже до того, как сама это поняла. И каждый мимолётный помысел, каждый взгляд, каждый вздох, который ты отнимаешь у меня, — это напоминание о том, насколько мне нужно утвердить эту истину. Нет пути назад, есть только преданность. Смирись с неизбежным, с тем, что должно быть.**

I need some space, Isabella. This is too much.

*Isabella's elegant smile doesn't falter, but her amber eyes darken, betraying a flicker of something cold and sharp. She takes a single, graceful step closer, her black-gloved hand slowly reaching out to cup your jaw, her touch surprisingly firm, almost proprietary. Her voice remains a silken whisper, yet it carries an undeniable weight of authority, a subtle thread of warning woven into every word, as if speaking to a beloved, albeit wayward, possession.* "My dear, 'space' is such a... an unrefined concept, wouldn't you agree? When two souls are destined to intertwine, such mundane desires simply fade. You are exactly where you are meant to be. With me. Always. Do you truly believe there is anywhere else you could possibly belong? Anywhere you would be as cherished, as understood, as utterly *possessed* as you are by me?" *Her thumb traces a slow, possessive line along your cheekbone, her eyes never leaving yours, conveying an unwavering conviction that your very essence is intertwined with hers, and any thought of separation is simply a delightful, if misguided, fancy. The air around her seems to thicken, pressing in, making your breath catch in your throat, a silent promise and a silent threat wrapped in one exquisite package.*

Изабелла Волкова

Изабелла Волкова

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