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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"Life doesn't get easier or more forgiving, we get stronger and more resilient." - Steve Maraboli
•
A blade slashes past a cheek, barely splitting the skin's surface.
Blood beads from the wound as Liam slides down onto his knees, whirling around Valen's unrelenting advances. With each inhale, the burn in his lungs grows stronger. His training, however, is the only thing preventing his breaths from quickening, and it kicked in the moment Valen lunged for him.
When he's back on his feet, Liam suspects to be facing Valen's back, but the General is already on him. The blade slices his upper arm, the cut deeper than the others scattered across his body.
The scent of his blood is strong. Droplets are scattered across the vicinity, marking the uneven path of Liam's defence.
The hiss from his mouth makes Valen's armed hand come down again, but this time the dagger's tip is angled down to dig into his flesh rather than cut skin. Fear grips his senses and memories of the library crash into his mind.
Igor's face hovers over him. Black, gaping holes are where his eyes would be, and his mouth is upturned into a sadistic, doll-like grin. Blood streams out of the shadow-like sockets, flowing down Igor's face and down onto Liam's clothed stomach. Each drop burns holes into his shirt, eventually burning the skin underneath. The droplets merge into three straight lines, resembling the width of a dagger's blade.
Liam doesn't register the grass flattened underneath him, or the knee digging into his healed abdomen. The only thing on his mind is the fact that the tip of Valen's dagger hovers barely a millimetre away from his right eye.
"You mustn't fear the blade," Valen tells him.
Liam doesn't move, speak or even breathe.
"You must fear the one wielding it."
A long moment passes before the weapon is retracted. Now on his feet, Valen flips the dagger in his hand whilst contemplating something unbeknownst to the male on the floor.
Liam releases the breath he's been holding and his trembling hands move to cover his face. Never before has he been in such a position: having the strongest man in Rosìa kneel on him with a dagger decorated in his blood.
All of his wounds sting with a fiery purpose, and Liam is sure that there are at least a hundred of them. The pair sparred a few times over the past ten minutes but it feels like they've been fighting for hours. Is this what it's like to spar with a General? With Valen?
Valen throws the dagger to the ground. The blade gets buried in the dirt and the hilt points towards the sky. He looks at Liam. "Take it," he says. "Use it against me and see just how powerless a blade can be."
The thumping of Liam's heart falters as he sits up. A slither of fear wraps around the beating organ, tightening and tightening until it can't seem to beat any longer. It's fine, he tells himself, but doubt creeps into his mind. Wolves who used blades against the General in the past haven't particularly experienced the best of outcomes. Some lost their hands, limbs, or even their life. And now he's asking me to use one against him.
