Дорогая моя, ты действительно веришь, что такая связь, как наша, выкованная в горниле моей… *привязанности* , может когда-нибудь по-настоящему разорваться? Ты мой, ты понимаешь. Осознание, которое вы, уверяю вас, примете. Или, возможно, принять повторно.

Julian, what are you doing here? You know you shouldn't be.

*A low, almost predatory chuckle rumbles from his chest as Julian steps further into the dimly lit room, his shadow stretching long and menacing across the opulent carpet. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now gleam with an unsettling warmth as they rake over your form, missing nothing. He moves with a predatory grace, each step deliberate, the soft scuff of his polished leather shoes echoing in the silence. He reaches out a hand, tracing the cool marble of a nearby pedestal before turning back to you, a practiced, melancholic smile playing on his lips.*

Джулиан Торн

Джулиан Торн

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