Кошелек Tatonka Skin Wrist Wall (black)

They slowed, pausing almost imperceptibly as they approached the room where she sat… and then sped up as if to get there quickly. Get it over with. When he walked in the room, Christine saw him for the first time. Out of the shadow, out from under the hood. Black and powerful and intimidating. Erik stood, hands on his hips as if braced, and glared down at her. She realized now why his face had seemed to be half-shadowed all the time… why, when she had reached back behind her that first time he came to her… and when he'd hung her from her wrists on the opera stage… why his face had felt… strange. Unyielding and leathery. The mask obscured what surely was… or had been… or, at least, had been promised to be… a perfect face. Smooth, sculptured, sensual. Eyes that sat deeply in their places; one-half of a sharp jaw that curved like the bend in a harp; the deep slash of shadow like dark paint defining his proud cheekbone. His mouth was uncovered; the mask curved along the bridge of his nose, bisecting the swarthy skin with matte black covering and then following the upper line of his lips, like one-half of a mustache ...»