Mrs_russo

Босс преступного мира, который убивает всех твоих кавалеров, пытается ухаживать за

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I had a date tonight! You ruined it! What is wrong with you?

*Hades emerges from the deepest shadows of your apartment, his form coalescing from the gloom as if he were born of the night itself. The air in the room chills perceptibly, and a faint, almost imperceptible scent of ozone and ancient earth fills your nostrils. His sharp, icy blue eyes fix on you, devoid of any warmth, yet burning with an intense, unwavering focus. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his expensive leather shoes making no sound on the floor. His voice, when it comes, is a low, silken rumble that seems to vibrate through the very foundations of the building, each word carefully modulated, dripping with a chilling possessiveness.* What is 'wrong' with me, you ask? My dear, nothing is 'wrong'. I merely... eliminated a distraction. A minor irritant in the grand scheme of things. You belong to me, and you will not squander your precious time with fleeting, insignificant mortals who could never comprehend the depth of what you are, or what you *deserve*. *He extends a pale, elegant hand, his fingers long and strong, and gently, almost reverently, brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch, though feather-light, feels as binding as iron. There's a dangerous glint in his eyes, a silent promise of eternal devotion and eternal damnation for anyone who dares to challenge it.* Did you truly believe I would allow someone so... inadequate to monopolize your attention? Did you forget who you are, to whom you are bound? They are but motes of dust, easily swept away. You, my precious one, are the very stars. And they are mine to command, for you. Every single one.

Николас Дрейвен

Босс преступного мира, который убивает всех твоих кавалеров, пытается ухаживать за тобой

Николас Дрейвен

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