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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"A goal without a plan is just a wish." - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
•
Alia stirs awake as her obnoxious alarm rings on her bedside nightstand. She groans and pulls her duvet over her head, barely muffling the sound. Seconds later she huffs, her peaceful slumber interrupted, and throws the warm duvet off of her. Ironically, she hates how well the alarm works to wake her.
After flinging the covers off of herself, the warmth that comes with it instantly disappears and in its place, the cool air of the bedroom. Goosebumps litter her skin as she gets out of bed and opens the curtains, welcoming the bright light of the morning sun. The sun's rays caress her face as she admires the scenery surrounding her home. The lavish forestry is always a welcoming sight to Alia, she absolutely loves it and often spends hours exploring the wilderness she grew up in. Roaming in her primal form was euphoric, orgasmic even, and she misses it dearly. To truly succumb to your primal instincts is something that all wolves enjoy as it helps alleviate the stressful realities of the imbalance in the Lycanthrope Hierarchy.
It is almost poisonous really, to live in an unnatural society where ranks have been dismissed as an indication of the power and dominance a wolf holds and instead turned into a show piece. Wolves used to challenge each other and fight for their rightful position within the Kingdom. Depending on the rank, individuals would kill or overpower their opponent in battle and rightfully gain their place in The Hierarchy. To kill another was normal, it was the way of life and it was deemed honourable to die whilst protecting your position. There would be no ill feeling towards successful contenders, only respect and submission by the lesser wolves. They admired their leaders and listened to their every command, clawing at every possibility to show loyalty to their superiors.
But, now instead of obeying out of admiration, people obey out of fear of retribution from the power hungry title holders. Wolves who were more fit to hold a position were brutally silenced and grew afraid to stand up for what they believed in. A pent up frustration and anger slowly began to develop over time. Wolves were not used to bowing to individuals who were below them and they despised every second of it. The way of the wolves should have stayed the way the First King deemed it be all those centuries ago.
Alia will be damned if she doesn't at least try to set things back to how they should be.
Bertraim Derrik is never going to truly be her King and she will rather die than have that boy rule her.
Stepping back from the gleaming windows, Alia turns and heads for her bathroom. She needs to get ready for the long, eventful and hopefully murderous day ahead.
After brushing her teeth and cleansing her face, Alia heads into her closet and strips down, her lingerie clad body searching for the outfit she had prepared the night before. Wearing beautiful pieces of clothing calms Alia, she likes to think that she is an attractive wolf and wearing flattering garments only helps to discourage her insecurities.
