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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"So much of the language of love was like that: you devoured someone with your eyes, you drank in the sight of him, you swallowed him whole. Love was substance, broken down and beating through your bloodstream." - Jodi Picoult
•
Round 76
Alia desperately tries to pull away the tattooed arm locked around her throat, airways restricted and lungs burning. Her mouth tries to gasp for air, but not a single breath finds her. Nails claw at Yaro's skin, blood coating her fingertips whilst he hisses underneath her. Black stars begin to cloud her peripherals, vision blurring. She tries to arch her body away from him, but his legs are wrapped around her hips to keep her in place.
How did she even get into this position? All she remembers is lunging for him, and now she's in a chokehold?
His legs tighten around her, and she doesn't have any air inside her lungs to cry out. She can feel her hips crushing underneath the force of him, and it makes her want to submit just to make it stop.
"Submit," he grits, arm squeezing her throat even tighter. "You won't win this. Submit."
The black stars cluster, and her body goes weak. If she refuses to listen to him, she'll end up unconscious in seconds. Part of her wants to continue on and take any chance she can get at winning, but this is Yaro. From the moment he got her into this hold, she should have known he'd never let her get out of it. And even if she doesn't submit, it won't change anything.
A loss is a loss.
Raising her heavy fingers, Alia taps his forearm before her hand drops to the mat. Her body goes limp, energy drained and head pulsating.
Yaro unwraps his arm from her neck and quickly slips out from underneath her. Alia's throat burns when she gasps air into her lungs, body curling to the side whilst her ears begin to ring. Her entire body hurts, muscles and mind. It feels horrible to lose, but it being to Yaro manages to lessen the blow.
The pain in her body doesn't dissipate. Staying still makes her hyper-aware of every sharp pain of her broken bones and every aching bruise on her skin. She just wants to rest. She wants to sleep and heal and be done with this.
Yaro sits at the opposite end of the mat. His eyes are concerned, never leaving her face whilst she regains herself. Heaving breaths turn into steady ones, and eventually, Alia manages to push herself upright. "You better win this thing," Alia croaks. "Or I'll get you back for this."
He raises a brow, amused. "Threatening a future General already?"
She rolls her shoulder, wincing. Yet her eyes are just as amused as his. "Just make sure you become one of the Titled and you'll have nothing to worry about."
He briefly looks down at the mat and raises his brows, not worried in the slightest. "You act like I didn't just put you in a chokehold."
"I didn't say I'd get you back today." She looks at her bloody fingertips. "It could be a week, a month, or even a year from now. All you can do is keep an eye open until then."
