“We’re not in your room,” she said, fighting back her panic. “It’s just that the sun has gone down, and it’s very dark now. And cold, actually, so if you wouldn’t mind taking us back—”
“I’m so tired, Alizeh,” he said, stumbling over the words. He sounded delirious. “Let’s go back to bed, Alizeh.”
“Cyrus—”
He laughed a little, like he was drunk. “I do say it a lot.”
“What?” she said, going briefly still.
“Your name,” he said, and closed his eyes. He nearly fell over, catching himself at the last second. “I didn’t know your name for so long, angel. I love the way it feels in my mouth.”
Alizeh’s confusion was outweighed by the physical shock she felt at his casual affection, the endearment embedding in her chest, causing chaos.
“Cyrus,” she said, feeling suddenly close to tears. “What’s happening to you? Are you sick?”
“Oh yes.” He nodded. “It’s t-terrible.”
“Is it magic?” Her fears ratcheted only higher. “Are you under a spell right now?”
“Mmmm yes always happens,” he murmured. “Part of the cycle.”
“What always happens?” she asked urgently. “What cycle? What are you talking about?”
He didn’t respond; instead, he clapped a heavy hand against his cheek and frowned. “Did you wash my face, sweetheart?”
A new tenderness; another blow to her chest.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“How?” His hand fell away, and he squinted into the darkness. “Did you call for a maid?”
“No.” Her head felt strange. Overheated.
This time when he swayed, he fell.
Alizeh caught him with a softoof, and his head landed with a gentle thud against her chest, where, without the heft of her golden necklace, the low neckline of her bodice was nearly indecent. Cyrus turned his head, pressed his face to the exposed skin of her breasts, and made a sound deep in his throat, something like a groan.
“You’re so soft,” he said, slurring the words. “So sweet.”
Alizeh worked desperately to compartmentalize the torrent of sensation awakening in her body.
Something was very, very wrong.
“You feel so real,” he whispered.
“Cyrus,” she said. “You’re frightening me.”
He shook his head and took a deep, shuddering breath, unselfconsciously inhaling the scent of her. “Don’t be afraid of me, angel. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”
Alizeh’s chest constricted, her heart frantic. He was a ton of dead weight; so heavy she didn’t know how to get his head off her chest without shoving him to the ground.
“Listen, I know you’re very tired,” she said nervously. “But I need your help, sleepy boy. Can you do something for me?”
“Anything.” He drew his nose along the swell of her breasts, kissing the smooth skin there once, twice, until she made a desperate, broken sound and he swore, low, under his breath. “Alizeh,” he said, sounding drugged. “Can I taste you?”
She was shaking so hard the tremors were beyond her control now, and if Cyrus weren’t half out of his mind she’d have been too mortified to speak. Her breath was coming infast, in fits. She had to get herself in order or else she’d lose this struggle entirely.
“Listen to me,” she said breathlessly, “I need you to get us back to the castle. Can you please do that for me, Cyrus? Can you use a bit of magic to return us to the palace—”
