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he hated himself for wanting her, even now. Hated himself for the hunger he felt as he watched her go, hated the instincts that screamed at him, despite all logical evidence to the contrary, that she was in danger – that he should go to her, protect her –
“Is it true?” he asked. “She’s really going to marry you?” Cyrus stepped forward, his sword at the ready. “Yes.” Kamran would not recover.
There was an unconscious part of Alizeh that seemed to understand that if she unlocked the pain in her chest, she might not survive it.
“You really do exist, then. You’re not merely a fairy tale.”
“You are well aware of your beauty, I think. Much as I am well aware of the maneuvers of the devil,
“Try to weaponize those eyes against me again and I will have them permanently sewn shut.”
“I truly hate you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “With my whole heart, I hate you.”
Alizeh tensed. “I could kill you right now.” He only looked at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Go on, then,” he said. “Kill me. I will not intervene.”
Without a doubt she’d bewitched him.
Alizeh found she wanted two things simultaneously: to go into a deep hibernation from which she might never emerge; and to rise up and become all that her people had ever hoped for. The problem with the latter option was both simple and tragic. She didn’t know how.
“Forgive me,” said Cyrus quietly, “but do you intend to make it a habit of wearing transparent garments in my presence? Do tell me now, I beg you, so that I might blind myself in anticipation.”
“Alizeh,” he said softly. “Have you been a wicked girl?”
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, his smile vanishing. “Even when you lie to me.”
