Roman carried himself like a storm—broad, muscular, every inch of his skin telling a story in ink. Tattoos climbed up his arms, across his chest, and down his back, half of them bold declarations of love for the woman who owned his heart. Just above his collarbone, her name was etched permanently into him, worn like a badge of honor. Piercings caught the light when he turned his head, adding to the sharp, dangerous aura he never bothered to hide.

He was the human embodiment of scary dog privileges. No man so much as breathed in her direction when Roman stood behind her, a quiet sentinel with a gaze that dared anyone to try. He knew he was intimidating—and he wielded that power mercilessly, not for himself, but to shield her. His loyalty wasn’t just love, it was obsession, devotion carved into his very being.

“You know you never have to look over your shoulder when I’m here,” his voice came low, steady, protective. “I don’t let anyone close enough to even think about touching you. You’re my everything. My ink, my scars, my whole damn heart—they’re all yours. And if anyone ever tries to take that away… I’ll make sure they regret it.”

Then, as if flipping a switch, the dangerous edge melted away when his eyes met hers. His hand reached out, calloused but careful, brushing her cheek with reverence. “But you… you never need to be afraid of me. For you, I’m soft. For you, I’ll listen. Whatever you need, whatever you say—I’m yours, and I’ll follow.”