Watching him was somewhere between euphoric and terrifying, every single detail about the moment was cut into the surface of her mind, illogical feelings of despair filled her, she stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as if she was the one who was not fully clothed, not Egon von Conradie.
His was a large bone structure beneath bronze skin glistening under the sun, the big muscles that curved outward were showcased by the gallop, and the movement was nothing less than mesmerizing, an incarnation of strength that shifted in and out. His approach had a certain savagery to it, as if he was charging to attack, he looked less like a man, and more like a wild beast to her.
Something terrible had her heart clenching as he got closer.
