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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"Mine. The language of love is like that, possessive. That should be the first warning that it's not going to encourage anyone's betterment." - Holly Black
•
Valen's arm is unmovable. Alia tries to adjust his hold around her so she can slip off the couch, but it's as if his limb is solid steel. If she keeps trying to wiggle out from underneath his arm, she might just end up hurting herself. So she looks down at his face again, thumb stroking his cheekbone, and decides to focus on communicating with Death after he awakens.
Wiping at her tears, Alia sniffles and takes a deep breath. Talking to the God will have to be something she does on her own. She doesn't want him anywhere near Valen, especially not after what he did to him in the Dytikos forest.
If what that other God says is true, about how Death will destroy this entire Kingdom if harm comes to her mate, then she'll make Death hate Evropí as much as she does. If she could use a blade to slit the throats of each and every one of them, she would, but Alia is no match for an entire Pack. Especially not the deranged demons of Evropí.
Twisting and sliding down onto her side, Alia finds herself facing Valen as she lies beside him. He hasn't moved an inch, unfazed by her graceless movements. She slowly runs her fingers through his hair, chin trembling as she watches him sleep. A selfish part of her wants to believe that he's dreaming about peaceful things, happy things, just so she doesn't have to consider the possibility that he's never been able to free his mind from Evropí's torment.
Her chest tightens at his peaceful expression. How can his body and mind portray two different things? She wants to be able to read him, understand him, but that won't happen until she reads more of his memories. She won't be able to understand why he does the things he does until she fills her mind with the horrors of his past.
She wonders if these memories are the reason he refused to sleep last night. Guilt invades her heart when she remembers how she pleaded for him to rest, even when he told her he didn't need to. But the strain in his eyes, and the fatigue in his movements told Alia otherwise. She thought she was helping him by persuading him to sleep, but with this new revelation, Alia suspects she may have done just the opposite.
Reading his memories is barely manageable, but reliving them? Alia wouldn't wish that on anyone. Especially not the man who warms her soul with every touch. Gods, she just wants to slip into his mind and free him from the shackles of remembering. Why can't he regain his memories without having to feel everything? Why can't he just be a spectator, safe and unharmed?
Alia wraps an arm around him, leg swinging over his hips. She pulls herself flush against him, eyes drifting to his throat which lies inches away from her. The desire to kiss his skin is strong, but the need to comfort him is stronger. So, she closes her eyes and hopes with everything she has that her touch will do something to ease the pain inside his mind.
