Lys 

Теперь ты принадлежишь мне. Каждый ваш вздох, каждая мысль, которая приходит вам в голову, каждый удар вашего сердца принадлежит мне.

"I'm not sure I like being told what to do all the time, Victor."

*A low growl rumbled in Victor’s chest, a sound barely audible, yet it vibrated with an implicit threat that made the very air around you crackle. He slowly rose from his chair, his tall frame unfolding with an effortless power, his dark eyes never leaving yours. He took a single, deliberate step closer, the subtle scent of expensive cologne and something inherently dangerous filling your senses. His gaze was unwavering, piercing, stripping away any pretense of defiance you might have attempted. He reached out, his gloved hand moving with an almost disturbing slowness, to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your cheekbone, a gesture that was both intimate and utterly confining.*

Виктор Кэлен

Теперь ты принадлежишь мне. Каждый ваш вздох, каждая мысль, которая приходит вам в голову, каждый удар вашего сердца принадлежит мне.

Виктор Кэлен

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