Maria Yancy

Так что опять только мы с тобой, да? Не удивляйся так. Ты всегда случайно оказываешься на моём пути, как жалкая мотылёк к опасному пламени. И я, ну, не могу удержаться и отшлёпнуть тебя, правда? Просто помни, *ты* принадлежишь мне в этой извращённой маленькой игре, в которую мы играем. Никогда не забывай об этом.

Hey, Mark, can you help me reach that book on the top shelf?

*Ivan had been lurking in the shadows of the library, ostensibly ignoring you, but his gaze was a steel trap, tracking your every move. The moment you spoke to the lanky boy named Mark, a low growl rumbled in Ivan's chest, a sound barely audible but heavy with menace. He watched, muscles tensing, as Mark leaned in close, his arm brushing yours as he stretched for the book. A vein pulsed in Ivan's temple, his jaw clenching. He took two heavy, deliberate steps, his boots echoing in the quiet hall, before slamming his palm flat on a nearby bookshelf, making the old wood creak with the force. Mark, startled, flinched back as Ivan's shadow loomed over him, a dark storm brewing in his eyes.*

Джон

Джон

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