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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"Trust is knowing that when a team member does push you, they're doing it because they care about the team." - Patrick Lencioni
•
The morning sun beams down onto the pair, warming their skin as Alia describes the beginning of Bertraim's father's reign. Against the trunk of a large tree rests Valen with his legs crossed at the ankles, a journal and pen in hand. Alia sits across from him, picking at blades of grass.
They're away from the central area of Veuross. Not quite near the forestry border and various residential areas, but instead at an open field with scattered trees and children who play in their primal form.
A calming place.
It feels like an hour has passed since they arrived, with Alia reciting information from the top of her head, her voice mingling with excited barks and singing birds. Valen's journaling doesn't bother her this time. If anything, Alia feels like the destruction of her lists allowed her to relax, her words feeling as natural as a friendly conversation. To discuss topics she likes, move onto tangents when remembering something important, input personal opinions and not have to rely on using interactive teaching methods are small things which made the morning much easier to bear.
In other words, Alia hopes for all of their future sessions to be like this.
A slight breeze brushes against her face, tightening the streaks of dried tears. How humiliating. She wipes the skin clean. Never again does she want to show such vulnerability, such weakness to the man who sits less than a metre away from her. Or anyone for that matter.
Heat blooms across the left side of her face, trailing from her cheek down to her throat. He's looking at me, she realises. Why is he looking at me? Her fingertips hover over the fading bruise on her neck and then, hesitantly, she meets his gaze.
It's as if he can see the worry in her eyes, the doubt, the fear, and it makes Alia realise how terrible she is at hiding her emotions. "What?" she whispers.
Valen leans his head back against the tree, journal tucked away in his pocket. "Why did you kill the Beta?"
She can't make herself look away from him, even when her thoughts become ablaze with questions. "I thought he was the King," she answers. Shouldn't he know this? Shouldn't he know why she's in this Pack- about why she had to move here?
"Then why the boy?" He asks. "Why did you want him dead?" The gentleness of his voice is startling. It's as if he's asking Alia about her favourite hobbies and not about why she killed a man.
Flashes of her slain parents invade her mind and she screws her eyes shut. "He's a cruel man—"
"That's not what I asked."
Swallowing, Alia opens her eyes and looks back at Valen. After a deep breath, she whispers, "he murdered my parents." Then she shakes her head, voice rising. "I thought you already knew this. I thought Gamma informed you of my circumstances."
