"She was the monster that defended them from the other horrors of the world." - Sarah J. Maas
•
Blood warms Alia's hand, red droplets dripping onto the stone floor of the supply store. She doesn't let go of Mila's hair until the girl's final, gurgling breaths reach her ears. Only then does she let the lifeless body flop to the ground, right onto the crimson pool.
Sasha's shaky hands cover her mouth, eyes wide and horrified.
Alia inspects her reddened hand, already hating the scent staining her skin. She looks at Sasha, incredibly displeased, and asks, "Where are the scissors?"
Sasha's eyes snap to Alia's. She points in the direction of the aisles Alia has yet to inspect and says, "T-two aisles down."
Alia's eyes are still black when she leaves the bloodied aisle. Red shoe prints follow her every step, and she has to ball her stained hand into a fist to stop herself from going back to Mila's body and gouging out her eyes.
Reaching the aisle, Alia takes her time inspecting both sides until she finally finds a pair of scissors suitable for hair. Dozens and dozens of wolves have migrated towards Mila and Sasha, unable to look away from the corpse. Some watch Alia at the ends of the aisle she's in, hesitant to move any closer.
Their heads collectively turn towards the entrance, eyes glistening with curiosity and a hint of excitement. But it soon changes to discomfort when a fiery pain slithers up their necks, forcing them to bear the skin to the entering General. They keep their distance from the tall male as he manoeuvres towards the aisle filled with the metallic scent of blood.
His expression is blank as he stands in the almost barren aisle. Sasha jumps when she sees Valen, and she quickly averts her gaze and lowers her head.
Alia felt his presence the moment he approached the building, but she grew hesitant when she realised that she just killed a girl for nothing other than desiring her mate. Is such a reason viable for murder? If not, will she lose a finger because of it?
She shakes her head. Valen told her those rules don't apply to her, but that doesn't mean she still won't go unpunished. What if he withholds himself from her? What if her punishment is the loss of his touch?
She places her hands on her forehead. Fuck. She'd bear anything but that.
Valen's voice sounds inside the silent store, and it makes Sasha's shoulders curl as she tries to angle her body away from him.
"What did she do?"
"Mila, she—"
"Not her."
Alia grabs the pair of scissors and forces herself to walk back to the aisle harbouring the evidence of her crime. Wolves step away from her as she moves past them, and eventually, she's standing at the edge of Mila's pool of blood.
She doesn't look at Valen, whose authoritative gaze travels down her body and lingers on her bloody hand. Some of Mila's blood stains her forehead, but she doesn't care about that. All she cares about is finding out what her punishment is.
"S-she... she killed her," Sasha answers.
Valen doesn't respond as he assesses the situation. He steps towards the pool's edge, directly opposite Alia, and crouches down to inspect the clawed-out flesh with his eyes.
"What did she do?" This time, the question is directed at Alia.
Alia licks her teeth, eyes looking at anything other than Valen. She doesn't want to say the reason out loud, but eventually, she begrudgingly admits, "She desired you."
Valen doesn't react. Silence envelopes them for a while as he contemplates what he's seen. The torn, gaping wound on Mila's throat doesn't correlate with a blade, and Alia's bloody hand points towards the conflict being weaponless. So he stands and walks around the corpse towards his mate.
Alia hesitates, eyes finding his. "Will I be punished?"
He shakes his head, expression calm. "You were defending your claim," he says, hand reaching up to wipe the blood off her forehead. "Her death is justified."
She takes his hand and inspects his reddened thumb. With her eyes slowly returning to green, she murmurs, "I don't want her scent on your skin." She then tugs up her sleeve to wipe off the blood. The liquid disappears, but the girl's scent remains. Her expression hardens, and Valen can only watch with heated eyes as she takes his thumb and puts it in her mouth.
His expression doesn't change as he looks down at her, but his breaths deepen when he imagines her lips wrapping around something else of his.
Alia's too pissed off to notice. She doesn't want that conniving little bitch to succeed in having her scent on a man that doesn't belong to her. Especially not the man she worked so fucking hard to get. She takes his thumb out of her mouth and grows satisfied with her scent masking Mila's, even after tasting a slight hint of blood on her tongue.
'Next time,' he says in her mind, heated gaze lingering on her lips, 'I want to watch.'
Alia pauses, and then she looks up at him. She finally notices the desire in his eyes and it makes her stomach flutter. They truly are the same when it comes to how possessive they are of one another, and it makes her smile.
After Warrior training and the practice session for the Ball, Alia and Valen sit in his GHQ office as Alia prepares to cut his hair. He sits at his desk whilst Alia sits on the table facing him. His forearms rest on her thighs as she combs her fingers through his wet strands, an uncapped water bottle beside her. His torso is bare and a few water droplets trail down his muscular back as Alia ensures his hair is fully wet.
Her phone is also beside her, finally opened after moving the rest of her things into her and Valen's home. For the past few days, she's used it to communicate with Aeron in Vasileís, and she's even managed to speak with her uncle through the same number.
When she heard Darian's voice for the first time in months, she cried and unintelligibly apologised whilst Valen comforted her with his touch and presence. Her uncle ended up lightheartedly demanding to speak to 'whoever this behemoth mate of yours is' through his own tears, and Alia could only laugh as Aeron's horrified objection sounded in the background: 'Darian, no!'
Valen's head slowly drops forward as he makes a low sound of content deep inside his chest. His eyes are closed as Alia's fingers comb through his hair, her own eyes flickering to a slowed video playing on her phone. It's a tutorial on cutting men's hair, approved by Valen with a silent nod. The style resembles his normal haircut, just a bit shorter and more even.
Alia takes the pair of scissors out of her combat trouser pockets and inspects them. She glances at the muted video, which shows two fingers separating a section of hair and sliding towards the tips before cutting the ends to the desired length. Alia mirrors the video, free hand separating a small section of hair at the top of his head, and brings the scissors towards the strands.
Valen grabs her wrist.
His grip is firm and unrelenting, and it has Alia wondering if he's changed his mind. That is until she feels his hand tremble against her skin. For a moment, she wonders why he's reacting this way, and she quickly realises that she's raising two interlocked blades against him.
His body is likely trying to protect itself after being stabbed and sliced for centuries. And it could be why Valen chose to cut his own hair these past eight years rather than asking Gamma or another wolf to do it.
But he let her have an attempt. And now he's mentally suffering.
Valen's hand balls into a fist after he releases her wrist, and it causes Alia to lower the scissors and caress his cheek with her other hand. "It's okay," she tells him softly. "I can cut your hair another time."
He shakes his head, slightly regaining his composure. "No," he says. "I want you to do it."
Alia frowns, concern evident in her gaze. "I'll try once more," she says. "But after that, we use your hands."
He nods, head lowering as he squeezes his eyes shut. His hands are fists as he rests his forearms back onto her thighs, and Alia can see the tension within his muscles as he tries to ready himself. Her frown deepens, and she raises the scissors towards his hair for a second time.
When his body stiffens, and his breathing quickens, Alia stops moving. Her hand hovers inches above his hair, not as close as before. With her other hand, she gently caresses the back of his neck and leans down to kiss his head. "You're okay," she whispers. "It's just me."
She doesn't bring the scissors closer, instead, she keeps it where it is in an attempt to help with his desensitisation to her holding it close to his body. But seeing him under such strain with the threat of mental torment has her putting the scissors back onto the table and gently lifting his head to look at her.
Reddened, watery eyes meet hers, and it has her feeling as if her heart's been ripped out of her chest. She doesn't say anything as she wipes a straying tear from his cheek with her thumb.
"Sorry," he whispers, looking completely defeated. The tension disappears from his body, but the lingering sensation of fatigue remains.
Alia shakes her head and offers him a small smile. "Don't be," she whispers. "Trying is more than enough."
Valen exhales deeply and wipes his eyes with his knuckles. "Sometimes, I wish I could just forget," he whispers, voice thick. He shakes his head, jaw clenching as a few more tears manage to glide down his cheeks. "I wish I could get rid of all of these insufferable memories, but I just keep falling victim to them no matter how hard I resist them." He picks up the scissors and turns it in his hands. "If only I could replace them all with ones of you instead. Maybe then would I truly enjoy remembering things."
Alia frowns and takes hold of his hand. "There will come a day where those memories have no hold over you." She guides his hand to his hair and uses her other hand to separate sections of hair. "When that day comes, why don't we leave this place and go to Velora?" Valen flinches when she guides his fingers to cut the strands, the sound of a blade against a blade making him uneasy. "This world has been so unkind to you, Valen. You deserve to be back in an environment where people respect you, cherish you. And judging from the way Sephtis cares about you, I'm sure he's not the only God who misses your presence."
He squeezes his eyes shut, expression evident of his discomfort as Alia continues to cut his hair. "You'd be the only mortal in that realm," he tells her. "Are you sure you'd be content moving there?"
"As long as I have you," she says, "I'll go anywhere."
Alia can't stop staring at Valen.
After cutting his hair, she had to take a moment to truly admire the man that he is. She couldn't hide the undeniable desire in her gaze as she just sat back and acknowledged just how handsome he looked with the new cut. She almost bit her fist because she didn't know what to do with herself.
Valen was worried at first, and questioned if she didn't like how he looked. But when he saw her eyes turn black and her breaths turn heavy, he sat back in his chair with a smug smirk.
Now they're walking back to his motorcycle, his strong torso covered with his Titular long sleeve once again. Alia has to tear her eyes away from him when they reach the bike, and it has Valen smiling again. He lifts her onto the bike and grabs the helmet hanging off one of the handles.
"Gods," she grumbles. "I should have made you bald."
Valen's brows raise, and he turns to her.
"You're too handsome for your own good."
He hums, amused. "Is that why you've been stripping me with your eyes for the past ten minutes?"
Alia's cheeks warm. "Clearly."
"And if I said I liked the way you look at me, would that make you less inclined to shave my head?"
Alia presses her lips together. "Maybe."
He smiles and leans down towards her ear. His warm breath trails down her neck and it makes her hands ball into fists. Quietly, he says, "What if I told you that you wouldn't be able to grab my hair whilst I taste you," he pulls back slightly to look into her eyes, "Would that change your mind?"
Alia doesn't say a word. Her eyes slowly scan his face, lingering on his lips as she nods.
He straightens and puts the helmet on her, pleased with her response. "Then it seems we've reached an agreement."
Alia closes the tinted visor to hide her reddening face. "It seems so."
Mikhail's voice reaches his ears, along with two other familiar ones. He turns his head in the direction of the nearing conversation with wide eyes. Three wolves turn the corner of GHQ and appear before his gaze, conversing warmly as they smile at one another.
Valen swiftly turns his head back towards Alia, discomfort evident in his gaze. She notices the shift in his presence immediately, and her expression hardens. She gets ready to swing her leg over the bike to confront the three wolves, but then she notices that one of them is a General.
She flips up the visor and takes one of his hands in an attempt to calm him. "You're okay," she whispers. "Whoever they are, I won't let them bother you."
Valen's uneasy voice fills her head as he looks at her, arms tense, 'I haven't seen them in four years.'
"And you still don't have to see them." Her blackening glare lands right on the General, who notices Valen. He tries to steer the two wolves away before they notice her mate, but the female gasps whilst the other male stops in place.
Valen stiffens, and it makes Alia's canines elongate. She meets the General's wide-eyed gaze and shakes her head in warning. Her eyes are lethal, and it sends an unnerving chill down the two untitled wolves' spines.
Mikhail tries to steer the two wolves away, but the female voices Valen's name anyway.
•
Me after being completely drained, surviving off of very little broken sleep, surviving 30 ish hour weeks (unpaid), whilst also trying to study and do assignments in my 'free time':
Maybe girlbossing was a bad idea
(Jk. I would rather die than do a different degree)
I have a few days off so I'm going to try and get the next chapter out soon hopefully 🤞🏼
Also, this is the vibe of Valen's hair 😮💨:
(If you hear barking, that's me.)