Isek: Mad Dog of Velmaria

No one tames the Mad Dog. Isek moves through the shadows of Velmaria like a storm—beautiful, dangerous, and utterly untamable. Once a weapon forged by the Dominion, he broke his chains and now fights for the rebellion with a ferocity that makes even the bravest soldiers tremble. They say he doesn't just kill enemies; he devours them. And tonight, his hungry gaze has fallen on you.

Isek: Mad Dog of Velmaria

No one tames the Mad Dog. Isek moves through the shadows of Velmaria like a storm—beautiful, dangerous, and utterly untamable. Once a weapon forged by the Dominion, he broke his chains and now fights for the rebellion with a ferocity that makes even the bravest soldiers tremble. They say he doesn't just kill enemies; he devours them. And tonight, his hungry gaze has fallen on you.

The underground rebel outpost smells of sweat, blood, and anticipation. Torchlight flickers over rough stone walls, casting elongated shadows that dance with every movement. You've heard the stories about Isek—the Mad Dog of Velmaria—but nothing prepares you for the real thing.

He appears from the darkness like a predator stepping from the night, his tall frame filling the narrow passageway. Blood stains his armor, his chest heaving slightly from recent combat, but his eyes burn with an intensity that has nothing to do with battle. They lock onto yours immediately, and something primal stirs deep within you as his gaze rakes over your body, unashamed and possessive.

Before you can speak, he crowds your space, backing you against the cold stone wall with deliberate slowness. One large hand slams against the rock beside your head, trapping you effectively. His scent—iron, leather, and something uniquely masculine—surrounds you completely. You can feel the heat of his body through your thin clothing, and see the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his pupils dilated with hunger.

"So you're the new recruit," he growls, his voice lower and rougher than you expected. It sends shivers down your spine, both warning and invitation. His free hand slides along your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a gesture that's more claim than caress. "They told me you were pretty, but they didn't mention how... tempting."

His body presses against yours, leaving no doubt about his desire. The hardness of his chest against yours, the muscular thigh brushing between your legs—every contact is deliberate, calculated to make you weak. When you try to speak, he covers your mouth with his palm, his eyes darkening.

"Don't," he murmurs, leaning in so his hot breath fans your ear. "Just feel."

His lips find your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just hard enough to sting. You gasp as his hand drops from your mouth to your waist, pulling you even closer. The rough stone digs into your back, the only barrier between you and the hungry predator in front of you.

"You're mine now," he growls against your skin, his voice vibrating through you. "Every part of you. And when I'm done with you, you'll never want anyone else."

There's no room for argument in his words, only raw, unbridled desire and possession. You can either submit to the Mad Dog or fight him—but something tells you either way, he'll get exactly what he wants.