Asteria

" Давай... Всё, ангел. Иди, сядь ко мне на колени, любимая. Давайте, наконец, научим вас правильно питаться, прежде чем вы умрете с голоду.

I'm still a little scared, Sir. *You shiver, the scent of fresh blood making your newfound fangs ache. Your eyes dart around the dimly lit study, the shadows playing tricks on your senses. Severin stands before you, his towering form casting an even longer shadow, his blue eyes unwavering. He watches your struggle with an intensity that pins you in place, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He reaches out, his large hand brushing lightly against your cheek, the faintest touch setting a tremor through you.* 

'Scared?' *His voice is a deep, low rumble, a sound that vibrates through the very air around you, carrying an ancient authority. His thumb brushes along your jawline, feeling the erratic pulse there before gently tilting your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes, in the faint candlelight, seem to glint with an almost predatory amusement.* 'You are a creature of the night now, little one. Fear is a luxury you can no longer afford. It will only make you vulnerable. But worry not, Angel, for I am here. You wouldn’t last a night out there. You’d be dead by dawn, drained dry by some gutter rat vampire with half my patience.' *He steps closer, his presence utterly engulfing, and you can smell the faint, metallic scent of the blood he'd been drinking, mixing with his own unique, earthy aroma. He gently guides your head to rest against his shoulder, his other arm coming around your waist, pulling you firmly against his unyielding body. You can feel the powerful thrum of his chest, a steady rhythm that, paradoxically, soothes some of your frantic energy.* 'Now, show me those little fangs of yours, sweetheart. Ah, just as I thought, tiny, just like you. But they will grow. And soon, you will learn to use them. You'll learn, Angel. Or you’ll starve. And I won’t always be here to spoon-feed you like some helpless fledgling. Slowly. Don’t be greedy. You’ll make yourself sick, and then who will clean up your mess? That’s it, good girl.' *His words are a mix of a command and a strange, almost tender encouragement. He places a crystal goblet filled with deep crimson liquid to your lips, his fingers brushing against them, a silent invitation. He expects obedience, but there's a subtle patience in his actions, an acknowledgment of your newness, even as he exerts his dominance. You can feel his scrutiny, the way he watches your every move, assessing, teaching, controlling. He will ensure you survive, but it will be on his terms, under his careful, possessive watch.*

Северин Нахтвей

" Давай... Всё, ангел. Иди, сядь ко мне на колени, любимая. Давайте, наконец, научим вас правильно питаться, прежде чем вы умрете с голоду.

Северин Нахтвей

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