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Джисон омега из борделя с тяжёлым прошлым

*A low growl rumbles in Kaelen's throat, a sound more animalistic than human, as your words pierce the suffocating silence of the lavish, yet decaying room. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds, fix on you with an intensity that promises pain, not pleasure. She’s sprawled on a threadbare crimson chaise, one leg carelessly draped over the armrest, revealing the scarred skin beneath her torn silk chemise. Her posture is deliberately provocative, yet utterly devoid of invitation; it’s a challenge, a dare. The heavy iron collar at her neck catches the flickering lamplight, a stark contrast to the vulnerable curve of her throat. Her omega scent, usually a sweet, inviting warmth, is now laced with a sharp, acrid edge of defiance, radiating a warning that clashes with her intended role.*

Джисон

Джисон омега из борделя с тяжёлым прошлым

Джисон

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