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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"We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged." - Heinrich Heine
•
Standing on a black sparring mat with a white '17' printed on the surface, Alia swallows and looks around the anxious main floor. Wolves walk past her, trying to find the numbered mat they're assigned to.
After Gamma's introduction speech, the screens in the waiting ring displayed a simplified aerial view of the numbered mats. Two names were assigned to each mat, randomised and only naming non-Warriors.
Whilst those named walked through various doors to enter the main floor, Gamma continued to explain the arrangement of the competition. Warriors will compete on alternate rounds with those without the rank, and this will continue until there are 50 non-Warriors and 50 Warriors remaining. The following round's pairings will be randomised between the 100 finalists, so non-Warriors may have to compete against Warriors to proceed to the final 50.
Yaro gave her two thumbs up when the three wolves noticed her name was displayed. Liam gave her an encouraging smile and wished her luck whilst she tried to restrain a nauseating onslaught of nerves.
Now she waits for her opponent, a male by suggestion of the name displayed below hers. A single glance upwards is enough to make Alia's head pulse with dread. Thousands of probing eyes stare down at where she and the other competing wolves stand, silent and unmoving. Her back is to Valen and it makes her want to move to the opposite end of the sparring mat just so she can see him. But a tall, dark-skinned male appears before her before she can begin to move.
With nervous eyes and shaking hands, the male nods at her and gives her a feeble attempt at a smile. It seems to be more of a grimace, and Alia can only frown at him in return. Sweat beads on his temples, and his arms and torso are lightly muscled. A patch of red appears on his bottom lip, teeth gnawing the skin raw. A loose green t-shirt covers his upper body whilst black shorts cover up to his knees. He wears white shoes identical to Alia's, and she almost comments on them in an attempt to make small talk. But the silence of the hall is stifling, and she'd rather bite her tongue than speak a single word.
Movement stills around her, revealing that all pairings are now at their allocated mats. Relax, she tells herself, feeling her heart begin to race. Just pretend it's the training centre you're used to. Pretend there's no one else here but you and your opponent. Alia looks down at the mat, eyes briefly squeezing shut.
It's not working.
Gods, why is she so nervous?
She's strong, she knows she is, but the thought of failing before her mate is too much to bear. If she loses in the first round, Alia doesn't think she'll show her face for weeks. She'll curl up and lock herself in his room whilst the days pass.
Valen's scent flows past her, his presence warm and commanding her attention. Alia's eyes fly open to find his retreating back. He walks past her paling opponent and towards the wall directly opposite her, opting to stand far enough to the side to remain visible to her eyes. When he crosses his arms, he scans the standing, wide-eyed wolves before settling on her green gaze.
