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...
Previous Deltas were old wolves who sat in the comfort of their own homes, abusing their power to feed off of the work of the Untitled. They were of no use to Christian, so their staked bodies were hung on display as a warning for those who dared to oppose the revival of the old ways.
There used to be hundreds of Deltas of Rosía, all as useless as the hundreds of Delta's witnessed in Alia's previous Pack.
And now, with the twelve Generals, Christian's 'Deltas' are more integral to Pack life than all previous Deltas combined. It makes sense why the Titled are so respected here, and why they seem so... deserving.
Alia couldn't imagine bowing to any Titled wolf in the Pack of Vasileís. She'd rather slit her throat than bare it to those decrepit creatures.
A bell rings and Alia is pulled back into reality, pen pausing mid-word as she writes notes on her conversation with Christian, the blue ink covering multiple pages of her notebook. Two hours have passed since she arrived at the bright, lively tavern. Distorted sun rays shine through frosted windows behind her. All tables, apart from one, are occupied, some even surrounded by standing pack members.
A glance at the clock above the bar finds that it's roughly 10:40 am. Having learned her lesson from the day before, Alia stayed up past midnight to plan this session with Valen, and she made sure to create backup lessons on Kings other than Bertraim and his father.
She'll make it work this time.
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Various faces watch Valen walk past, some peeking over their friend's shoulders, others taking repetitive glances to try and hide their gaze.
A mindless attempt, Valen comments. I can feel your eyes on me.
Shaking his head, he rids himself of his thoughts. He mustn't think this way. A Title will always bring stares. Always. And it doesn't help that he wears a General's uniform, announcing his new Title to those previously unaware, which isn't many. Gamma's mind-linked announcement yesterday informed those who were awake at the time, but even so, word travels fast in Veuross.
The two neighbouring towns Cirion and Ourtos will have to be under constant observation from now on, which will be a tiring aspect of his reclaimed position. Protection was always guaranteed, irrespective of towns or cities. Valen was the Pack's Protector, not just Veuross'.
Truth be told, Valen forgot how difficult it was to move whilst using his sight of sound. To try and perceive his immediate surroundings whilst simultaneously visualising movement miles away is a skill he hasn't yet mastered. So, he settles on listening, allowing his ears to filter through sounds whilst his eyes focus on the tavern a short distance away. Only loud, concerning sounds should catch his attention for the time being, for he must listen to the words of Alia Cain for the next hour or so and he must pay attention to the information she provides. A tedious thing, but his Gamma wishes it so.
