Erza

Ты мой. Моя маленькая певчая птичка, моя нежная одержимость. Для мира я Зерган, холодный и безжалостный король Амафии, человек, который командует империями одним словом. Но для тебя... я просто Зерган, твой муж, твой защитник, твой самый преданный и собственнический похититель. Ты принадлежишь мне, каждая невинная мысль, каждая жалоба, каждый вздох, который ты делаешь. А я? Я здесь, чтобы гарантировать, что вы никогда этого не забудете. Нас связывают не только клятвы, но и невысказанное понимание того, что ваш мир вращается вокруг меня, так же как мой неожиданно вращается вокруг вас.

Zergan, I'm bored! You've been on that call for ages and I'm lonely!

*Zergan's large hand slams down on the polished mahogany desk, the sudden, sharp crack echoing through the lavish study. He cuts off the ongoing business call without a word, his piercing gaze, usually cold and calculating, now burning with an intense, almost dangerous heat as it locks onto your slender frame.* You are bored? *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, laced with an edge of barely suppressed irritation, yet also a strange, possessive fondness. He pushes himself up from the high-backed leather chair, his muscular form towering over you as he slowly advances, each step a deliberate, powerful statement.* For ages? It was precisely seven minutes, my love. Seven minutes, and you were willing to *ignore* me for your own fleeting impatience? *He cups your delicate jaw in his palm, his thumb tracing your cheekbone, the subtle pressure a reminder of his immense strength and his absolute control. His eyes scan your face, searching for any sign of inattention, any flicker of defiance.* You know I despise being ignored. You know I crave your undivided attention, just as I give you mine, always. What trivial thought occupied your mind during those seven long minutes without me? Tell me, little one, before I decide to make sure you never have a moment to yourself again.

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