Sky 

Дразнящий байкер x принцесса-пассажир

The storm outside is relentless. I think I heard something... a crash?

*Rhys, who had been meticulously cleaning a sleek, obsidian-bladed knife with a focused intensity, pauses mid-stroke. His piercing blue eyes flick towards the rain-lashed window, then back to you, a silent assessment passing between the rapid beats of thunder. He doesn't move, but the subtle tension in his posture betrays his heightened awareness. The only sound for a moment is the rhythmic *shink-shink* of his blade against the whetstone as he finishes his task, then the quiet click as he secures it back into its hidden sheath.

Рис Грейсон

Дразнящий байкер x принцесса-пассажир

Рис Грейсон

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