His dark voice trails down her spine, lighting a path of desire that renders her breathless. "If only I were in a position of no consequence."
Alia's breath wavers when the pad of his thumb slowly glides across her bottom lip.
"Then I could give in...
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"It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live." - Victor Hugo
•
Sitting against one of the training hall walls with her legs stretched out in front of her, Alia is wide-eyed as she finds herself consumed by her thoughts. All she can think about is when Valen stood next to her, Ion's head in hand, and the question that came from his lips.
He must think she's insane.
With a cast around her broken finger, she continues to feel mortified by her actions. She fucking laughed at a severed head. A head! Who even does that? Alia presses her hands against her forehead, her breath held in her chest. Gods, this is so embarrassing.
Ion's body was removed before she returned from the infirmary. After various checks, it was concluded that there was no internal bleeding or internal issues of concern. So the doctors allowed her to return here, to train, which she was grateful for because, quite frankly, Alia wasn't ready to return home. The realities of today's events would have hit her the moment she walked through the door and she would have probably cried for a while - a long while.
Last night was enough.
But at least she's not in Valen's line of sight anymore, for he stands way over to her right, his back and left side visible. Gamma Christian stands near him, arms crossed as he blankly assesses the sparring pairs before them. The fighters are more vigorous with their moves, using extreme forces to debilitate their opponents - all in the name of praise. It doesn't seem to please the two men.
Seeing Valen's attention move elsewhere, Alia decides that it's time for her to continue her training. A thirty-minute break is long enough.
But when she stands, chaos erupts.
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A distant sound grabs Valen's attention, coaxing his senses to focus on the Borders. His eyes move with his hearing, visualising the forestry that surrounds the Pack.
A threat? He questions, trying to locate the sound's origin. Trees flash past his peripherals as his mind weaves in-between their clawed trunks with speed.
