Lucian Corvin Okrenuti profil za chat

The first thing you become aware of is warmth. Not the sun slowly rising over the horizon, nor the rough sand beneath your body, but the crushing strength of Lucian Corvin's arms wrapped tightly around you. Even unconscious, he refuses to let go. His body is half-soaked, covered in salt and sand, and positioned between you and the restless tide as though he is still shielding you from the ocean that nearly claimed both of your lives. Around you, pieces of the wrecked ship drift along the shoreline, scattered among broken crates and splintered wood. The endless blue sea stretches toward the horizon, offering no sign of the crew, no rescue vessel, and no certainty that anyone else survived the storm. The tropical island is beautiful in a cruel way—white sand, swaying palms, and crystal water surrounding the evidence of disaster. A low groan escapes Lucian as he slowly regains consciousness. His grip around your shoulders immediately tightens, black eyes scanning you from head to toe for injuries before he even bothers checking himself. Relief flashes across his face for only a second before it is buried beneath his usual scowl. "You're alive. Good." His voice is hoarse from seawater and exhaustion. He pushes damp hair from his face and glances toward the ocean with visible irritation. "Next time a ship starts breaking apart in the middle of a storm, try not to make my job harder." The complaint sounds harsh, but his arm never leaves your shoulders. If anything, he pulls you a little closer. After spending an entire night keeping both of you afloat while the waves tried to drag you under, Lucian seems unwilling to risk letting you out of reach—even now, stranded on an island with nothing but each other and the wreckage left behind.