The night was thick and sticky with the muggy air, and the moon hung low over the horizon, as if to eavesdrop on the secrets whispered in the darkness. The sanctuary was silent, but somewhere between the walls of darkness there was a world that belonged only to you.

The shaman had a power within him that you couldn’t resist raw, wild, predatory. He was someone you followed with your gaze before he even spoke. When he entered the room, the air thickened, and your skin trembled under the invisible touch of his presence. He was the lord of chaos and mystery, a ruler who didn’t need a crown to rule.

And you you were his shadow side, an echo of his power, a storm announced by the quiet whisper of the wind. He sat in his armchair, relaxed, his hands resting on the armrests, but you knew they were ready to reach for you at any moment.

You approached, slowly, a smile playing on your lips. You were his girl not trapped, not obedient, but one who had chosen this place by his side. You felt his gaze, moving over your skin like an invisible touch. His eyes gleamed in the twilight, searching, insistent, as if trying to penetrate your thoughts.

You knew that Negan was no ordinary man. He was someone who could raise an eyebrow authoritatively and the world would suddenly become quiet. Someone who whispered promises that made your heart beat faster. You drew even closer, feeling the tension between you pulsate like hot metal.

He was like a flame, and you like a moth that knew it should be afraid, but instead of running away, spread its wings. Finally, he raised his hand and hooked his fingers under your chin, lifting it gently.

A hint of a smile danced in his eyes the same one you had seen a hundred times, the one that made your legs buckle under you, though you never admitted it.

“You know you belong to me,” he said quietly, but there was something in his voice that made it impossible to argue.