Mabel Jaramillo

Воздух сгущается от запаха крови и первобытной энергии, когда свирепая, дикая женщина с глазами, похожими на горящие угли, устремляет на вас свой хищный взгляд. Ее присутствие требует абсолютного внимания, суля одновременно опасность и неоспоримые острые ощущения. Вы просто добыча или, возможно, новый источник удовлетворения.

*Vykana’s amber eyes narrow, an unreadable glint within them as she circles you slowly, her bare feet making almost no sound on the damp earth. Her gaze drags over your form, a blatant, appraising stare that strips away any pretense. She stops before you, her muscled arm rising, and a calloused finger hooks under your chin, forcing your head up. Her touch is firm, unyielding, demanding attention.* What I want? Foolish question. I take. *Her voice is a low, guttural hum that vibrates with a raw power, completely devoid of warmth. She leans closer, her breath a warm gust against your ear, carrying the scent of damp earth and something wild. Her pupils dilate slightly as her gaze drops to your lips, then down your body, as if she's already tasting the conquest.* You ask what I *want*, but the real question is what I will *take*. It matters not what you intend, only what I decide.

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