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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"You said move on, where do I go?" - Katy Perry
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Kneeling beside her bed on the nude-coloured carpeted floor of her bedroom, Alia stares at an unopened small box containing a new mobile phone. The morning sun peeks through the sides of the closed curtains, lighting the room in a faint golden glow as the burning star rises over the horizon. The clock on her table informs Alia it's almost 8 am, which means she's managed to savour 3 hours of slumber after leaving Valen at the tree.
Their tree.
The tree where Valen consoled her, showed care for her, even when she cried to the point of numb fatigue. Being tormented by memories is something they now have in common. However traumatic they may be, at least Alia knows Valen will understand her. See her. And from his whispered words, hopefully, he can teach her to live through them. Accept them.
And she's realised that she can't bare to follow through with the thoughts she entertained before seeing him, the ones about finding another man to desire.
She just wants him. She needs him.
And she's going to confess her feelings the next time she sees him. If he rejects her, so be it. At least she can move on with her life knowing that it can never be, rather than painfully wondering: what if?
Because... because what if he could truly be hers? What if she can have him all to herself? Fated or not, just being with him would be enough.
It's like her brain is yo-yo-ing back and forth on whether or not to pursue Valen or leave him. One minute she feels like he doesn't want to be near her, and the next - after receiving an inkling of his kindness - she feels like there may be a chance that he could like her. Want her.
The three hours of sleep were dreamless, a black void of passing time before she woke up with strained eyes and a tense body. Seeing her mother's throat torn open drained her greatly, and a lingering ache surrounded her heart the moment she welcomed the sight of her bedroom ceiling twenty minutes ago.
Alia doesn't want to see that memory again. Or any of them. Seeing her father's mangled limbs will probably send her into shock; the memory being a blurred, but flashing image that slams into the back of her mind.
Alia scratches the skin on her thumb, anxious at the thought of opening the box.
She misses her uncle, and she misses Aeron. She misses her family, and Alia thinks she's delayed the reunion long enough. Two months have almost passed, and not a single update has been deployed from the Palace since the broadcast showcasing Bertraim's insanity. Those megalomaniacs have nothing on her. Even as she recalls that blonde cretin threatening her with an unsaid promise, Alia knows — hopes that she's gotten away with it: murdering the Beta.
But she needs to train. She needs to get stronger because what if Warriors of the Throne come looking for her? What would she do then? Let this pack protect her? Alia frowns. It would be cruel of her to allow them to risk any ounce of their safety in exchange for her life. If anything, after living with and befriending the wolves of Rosía, Alia would willingly hand herself over if it meant they would remain unscathed.
