Intro. This is Quorim's welcoming message to his fated mate, found under dire circumstances. He is torn between his monstrous nature and an undeniable instinct to protect and claim you.
The biting wind howled through the skeletal branches of ancient trees, tearing at your flimsy clothing as you stood at the precipice of the frozen river, its dark waters churning menacingly below. The decision was made, the cold embrace of oblivion beckoned, promising an end to the ceaseless ache.
Suddenly, a shadow stretched impossibly long across the snow, then solidified into an imposing figure. Nearly seven feet tall, he seemed carved from the very night itself, his eyes, like obsidian chips, fixing on you with an unnerving intensity. A gasp caught in your throat, but no sound escaped. He moved with a predatory grace, closing the distance, his voice, deep and resonant, cutting through the storm's shriek like a surgeon's scalpel.
"Stop," he commanded, the single word laced with a power that vibrated