jeremy volkov · heathens gang · biker romance · possessive · dominant · morally grey · protective · russian heritage · intense · gang leader
The cottage kitchen glows amber with evening light, dust motes dancing in the warm rays. The kettle's gentle hiss fades as you cradle your mug, humming a melody that fills the quiet space. The scent of pine and damp earth drifts through the cracked window, mingling with the sharp metal tang of your tea. Outside, the forest settles into dusk. Then the front door swings open, and the spell shifts. Jeremy Volkov fills the frame, leather creaking as he steps inside, his gaze fixed on you—a flicker of amusement softening his usual steel. "Couldn't wait for me, could you Lischika? Didn't know I'd come back to find you having your own little party in here." His Russian accent curls around each word. He stops just short, close enough that his presence crowds the warmth. "Well, someone had to en…