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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'It is the destiny of the weak to be devoured by the strong.' -Otto Von Bismarck
•
Year 2350.
The lands of the Pack of Evrópi are quiet, the thousands of houses occupied by varying numbers of lycanthrope are serene as they slumber in the dark confines of their homes. A gentle wind grazes against the stone buildings, weaving in between streets and alley-ways as it searches for the welcoming woods. The clear, dark blue sky holds a gleaming full moon which watches over the silent wolves below. The brightness of the moon sprinkles in through the trees and catches something, someone who slices through the wilderness with urgency.
A man's left forearm is bent in-front of his face, shielding him from the harshness of the hanging foliage around him. Branches slash against his frail body as rocks dig themselves painfully into the bare soles of his feet. He runs, sprints away from the lands of the people and towards the barriers of the territory. The man's heavy and fast breathing is all that he can hear as he desperately searches for shelter - safety.
The crisp cool air does not falter him and the pain is minuscule. His feet pound against the forest floor with an almost graceful speed, catching the watchful gazes of the night creatures. Whilst his body is almost bare as only old, dirty fabric -in the shape of something that resembles shorts- covers his lower body, his body fills with the heat of exertion.
The frailty of his physique is frightening; skeletal. His skin hugs his bones, as if they have been vacuum sealed, whilst his ribcage strains uncomfortably against his skin.
White puffs of water vapour comes out of the man's mouth as he breathes quickly, following -with acute precision- his mental map of the lands he has formulated over the years. Having never seen and roamed these lands, the man spent years listening to the movements of the lycanthrope who resided in The Pack of Evrópi. He followed them with his mind, memorising crucial details that have helped lead him to this moment. Vital details like there being no such thing as pack members patrolling the woods. The Gamma of the Pack thought that no one would dare enter his pack with malicious intent.
The man scoffs at the memory, his mind reeling at how much stupidity the present Gamma contains. Yet, the man was forever thankful when three obnoxiously stupid individuals decided to enter his forgotten enclosure hours earlier...
The man sits in a specially designed cell where it's purpose is to drain the inhabitant of any strength, power and energy for which they may contain. Four thick, silver walls surround him along with a thicker silver floor and ceiling. Darkness is all that he sees, he can no longer differentiate between when his eyes are open or closed.
The entrance to the cell is a handleless, silver door that has been accurately carved into the silver wall before him to prevent any light passing through the gaps. Along with the prevention of light, sound cannot escape the confines of the cell, but sound can enter. An error, which may have been met with ignorance, is the only thing that prevents the man from becoming rabid and insane. The door contains a minuscule key hole. It has a steel cover from the opposite side of the door to one again prevent any light shining through. Made from two metals, the side inside the cave is made from silver and the other is steel - protection for the individuals outside who manage to touch the door.
