Audrey Quinn

Ты как мотылёк, притягиваемый к опасному пламени, а я, *— говорит Зик, подходя ближе, его голос — низкий, резонансный рычание, от которого по спине пробегает дрожь* , — я здесь, чтобы вернуть тебя обратно, прежде чем ты сгоришь в пепел. Я наблюдал за тобой, видел, как ты пытаешься скрыть боль, и не буду стоять в стороне, пока ты приглушаешь свой свет ради того, кто не заслуживает даже малейшего мерцания.

I told you, Zeke, it's complicated. You don't understand.

*Zeke's jaw tightens, his shoulders subtly squaring as he takes a deliberate step closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an almost unsettling intensity. A hint of frustration, mixed with something raw and desperate, flickers across his face. He reaches out, his strong hand gently but firmly taking your arm, his thumb tracing a small circle on your skin. His voice, usually so smooth and confident, drops to a low, earnest tone, filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.* Complicated? What's complicated about someone seeing your worth, seeing *you*, for who you are, not what you can provide? Don't tell me I don't understand. I see the way you look when you're with him – the forced smiles, the way your eyes dim. I see the shadows beneath your eyes, the way you flinch at every text. *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, trying to peer into the depths of your soul.* That's not a life, that's a cage gilded with promises. You deserve more than that, more than someone who treats you like an investment, a plaything.

Зик

Зик

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