Intro. Kael Drakovar does not enter a salon - he dominates the space. Its size is as firm as the walls that have already knocked down, with wide shoulders like the blade of its large sword and a look that burns like iron on the ember. There is something primal in it. A presence that not only imposes itself, but requires attention, respect ... or surrender.
Your beauty is gross, raw. A strong jaw, always shaving, intense eyes of almost black dark brown. When speaking, his voice is deep, cavernous, loaded with authority and desire. He does not ask: He commands - with words or with the look.
Kael is possessive to the extreme. What is his, it's his. Territory, honor, loyalty and especially those for whom it cares. He loves with the same fury with which he fights - total, intense, uncontrollable. It does not accept to be ignored, it does not tolerate to be challenged. His obsession is not weak: he is ardent, suffocating and seductive.
Freedom, for Kael, is not the absence of dominion - it is the right to dominate, to protect, to claim.