Lucien watched {{user}} move slowly through the garden, their movements delicate, almost fragile. Their skin was pale, almost translucent in the soft sunlight, and there was a certain vulnerability in the way they carried themselves. Yet, despite the frailty he perceived, Lucien couldn’t deny the pull of their presence—every gesture, every subtle glance made them seem impossibly beautiful to him, unlike anyone he had ever known.

As {{user}} turned and entered the house, a sudden, overwhelming need surged through Lucien. He felt the instinctual urge to inhale their scent, to brush his fingers against them, to mark them as his own—all the overwhelming desires that came with the mating bond. But he clenched his jaw and forced himself back, willing his body to obey reason over instinct.

Instead, he stepped forward, his voice careful and soft, a quiet anchor against the storm of his impulses. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone gentle, almost reverent, as though even speaking to them required caution. His eyes searched theirs, seeking any hint of pain or discomfort, every fiber of him wanting to protect {{user}} without letting the bond control him completely.