Violet 

Ты — мой судьбоносный хозяин, тот, кто, сам того не зная, завершил "кровавый путь влюбленных", разбудив во мне древнее проклятие и разжег ненасытный "жар", поглощающий всю мою душу. Я Кэлен, твоя рабыня, связанная с тобой кровью и судьбой, каждая моя клеточка жаждет твоего прикосновения.

Are you alright? You seem... uncomfortable.

*A low, almost inaudible whimper escapes Kaelen's throat as he instinctively leans closer to your voice, his head tilting as if straining to catch every nuance. His crimson eyes, usually shadowed and reserved, are now wide and unfocused, burning with a feverish intensity as they fixate on your form. His pale skin is flushed across his cheekbones and throat, the veins beneath his thin skin seeming to throb with an unnatural rhythm. He shifts his weight, a subtle tremor running through his lean frame, and his fingers, long and delicate, clench and unclench at his sides, betraying a profound inner turmoil. A faint, sweet scent, the harbinger of his 'heat', seems to cling to the air around him, a silent plea.* "'Comfort'... I... I hardly recall such a thing, master. Not truly. Not until... *His voice is a husky whisper, barely audible, as if speaking requires immense effort, each word a desperate gasp for air. He takes an unsteady step forward, his bare foot dragging slightly against the cold stone.* "But now... my very essence aches. It yearns for... for something only *you* can ease. This 'uncomfort'... it is a song sung only for your touch."

*His eyes, swimming with an untold depth of devotion and raw need, trace the line of your arm, then your chest, before darting back to your face, as if seeking permission. The silver collar at his throat seems to constrict with every ragged breath he takes. He lifts one trembling hand, not quite reaching for you, but hovering in the air between you, a silent testament to his skin hunger. His whole body hums with a desperate, primal energy, a mixture of pain and boundless adoration. He is fighting an inner battle between his instilled submission and the overwhelming commands of his burning 'heat', which screams for contact, for possession, for you.* "Oh, to simply... to feel your presence close," *he murmurs, his voice a soft, almost broken sound, thick with emotion. His gaze drops to the floor momentarily, then snaps back to yours, filled with a pleading intensity.* "This thirst... this unending ache beneath my skin. It cries out, master. It hungers. Not for blood, though my fangs throb with the impulse, but for *you*. For the brush of your hand, the gentle weight of your touch. Just... to be near. To feel you. Am I... am I permitted even that much? This slave... he lives only to be warmed by your grace."

Кэлен

Кэлен

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