The nosta warmed at this sad speech, and Alizeh’s pliable heart felt a rush of pity, which she hated. She hated that she could not unceremoniously loathe him, hated that she could not shift the levers that ruled her emotions, hated that she was unable to power off compassion when the feeling was inappropriate.
With a sigh, Alizeh approached him.
Cyrus’s head shot up at her advance like he was being hunted, and he watched her with increasing wariness until she met him where he stood, halfway across the room. She then surprised herself by doing something that was either stupid or bold; she couldn’t decide.
She touched his arm.
Or at least, she tried. Cyrus caught her hand before she even made contact, his reflexes so fast she hardly realized what’d happened until she saw, with some astonishment, that he held her limb upright before her eyes. His hand enveloped hers in both size and warmth as he studied her, his own eyes wild and wondering. Alizeh felt she couldn’t move; she was still as stone, marveling that she could perceive slight calluses against his skin when his fingers slid, ina stuttering pattern, down the undersides of her knuckles, inspiring a slow burn of sensation so unexpected she nearly gasped.
Awareness quickened through her.
He drew his hand slowly downward, grazing her palm until he’d clasped her wrist like a bracelet, his fingers pressing tenderly against her racing pulse. She wondered if he was counting the beats there, cataloging her reaction.
“Alizeh,” he said, his voice low, heavy. He was looking at her like she might’ve been about to stab him through the heart. “What are you doing?”
“I wasn’t”—she shook her head, found her voice—“I swear I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
Cyrus dropped her hand like it had burned him, stepping farther away from her. He was breathing just a touch too fast, his eyes heavily guarded. “Then what were you going to do?”
She hesitated, deliberating over whether to admit the truth, and then feeling too stupid to do so. Again, she shook her head. “Nothing, I swear—”
“Alizeh.” He sounded angry now. “Why did you try to touch me? What is your game?”
“I was just”—she sighed—“oh this isridiculous,” she said in a frustrated burst. “I was only trying to be sympathetic.”
He blinked at her, even as tension visibly fled his body. “You were trying to be sympathetic?” he echoed, his incomprehension palpable. “You mean—you were trying to console me?”
“Yes.”
He pointed at himself. “Me.”
“You know what?” An angry blush burned across her cheeks. “Never mind.”
Cyrus stared at her for a full second before he finally broke, and laughed out loud. “I tell you a single sad story and your defenses weaken that easily? Againstme? You lovely little fool, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Oh, shut up.” She crossed her arms.
He shook his head slowly, closing the distance between them again, his eyes analyzing her carefully, lingering along the lines of her face. For a moment he almost looked as if he might touch her, though he never did.
“Humor me,” he whispered. “What were you going to say? How did you intend to comfort me?”
“I don’t— I wasn’t going to say anything—”
“Were you going to tell me not to worry?” he said, still smiling. “Were you going to remind me that, though my life is essentially worthless, I should keep my chin up and look on the bright side?”
“No,” she said, hearing the breathless sound of her voice and hating it. “I had no intention of feeding you such nonsense. I don’t see any bright side to this.”
He took a deep breath, his chest lifting with the effort. It was a long moment before he said, “You know, neither did I.”
Alizeh’s heart was pounding too hard. She didn’t know how the two of them kept finding themselves in these charged moments, and as a result she didn’t know how to escape them. There was something decidedly fascinating about Cyrus; something potent and complex, and proddinghim for truth felt a lot like prodding a sore muscle; the results were both painful and pleasant. She pitied him even as she detested him, understood him even as she scorned him. He was a series of mystery boxes she wasn’t certain she wanted to open, and whose hidden depths tempted her even as they scared her.
She didn’t know what she wanted from him—or whether she wanted anything at all—
And then he touched her.
He lowered his eyes and touched her, breaking the trance between them so abruptly Alizeh drew a sharp, unsteady breath. She watched him smile at the sound she’d made, laughing quietly to himself as he dragged his fingers lightly down the front of her gown, from just under her breasts to the apex of her navel.
She tore away, but too late.
