Delirious Euphoria >/= Euphoric Delirium
After almost three thousand years of existence, predictability becomes a placid, enduring norm and, as such, there are only a select few, very rare occasions when something has the ability to surprise me.
This would be one of them.
I watch as the girl advances toward the belvedere, her steps slow and cautious, her eyes wide, seemingly in awe.
Mine, on the other hand, bulge for only one reason:
Absolute and utter shock.
I…I…can’t believe it…
For a second, I genuinely believe my eyes are playing tricks on me, a result of chronic stress and fatigue. But as much as I want to go with that explanation, the undeniable, irrefutable evidence is right in front of me; walking and talking and breathing.
Holy Basilisk, she really is a human!
But…what the hell is a mortal doing here?
How is she even here?
She obviously isn’t a Reaper: Golden, Silver, or Bronze.
She isn’t even a fucking spirit!
The more I think about it, the less sense it makes.
What in the hell is going on…?
My first instinct is to run over there, pick her up by her neck, and throw her out.
But for some reason I hold myself back, observing her as she continues to gaze around her, trailing slender fingers over sculptures and other formations as she goes.
She’s obviously fascinated, her curiosity beaming through her large brown eyes, but they also reflect hints of concern, as if she’s worried something bad might happen to her. Her body language mirrors that; her shoulders tense, her back slightly hunched, confirming that her guard is up.
She actually seems as lost and confused about this situation as I am.
After a few more moments of watching her, I decide to confront her, knowing it’s the only way I’ll get any answers to this bizarre situation.
She doesn’t seem to notice me as I approach her, closing some of the distance between us.
For some crazy reason, I actually start to feel…nervous.
But I quickly banish the rare, unexpected emotion, feeling absolutely ridiculous for getting apprehensive over a mere mortal, even briefly.
I inhale deeply, mentally reasserting myself and preparing for what might happen.
But as soon as I do, I’m met with that scent again.
God…Is it me or is it getting stronger…?
Almost instantly, I get become light-headed, but chalk it up to the workload I just recently agreed to take on.
But then I inhale again, and my vision slightly blurs.
Out of the blue, and for no reason at all, I start to feel ecstatic.
My body begins to feel light and my skin tingles abnormally, waves of heat swimming beneath its surface, as if I’m standing in an oven.
My heart starts racing, beating profusely in my body like a child throwing a major tantrum.
It all happens so quickly. I can barely process any of it.
Holy crap…I think I’m getting high.
It’s like I’m feverish but not quite. I’d think I have the stomach flu if I didn’t feel so good.
Through my sudden, strange bout of delirium, I vaguely see her eyeing one of the grails intently. I’m getting caught up in how the scent is making me feel, but then she takes the grail and puts it to her mouth and I instantly snap out of my trance.
What the fuck?
In an unusual bout of panic, I go off on her before I can stop myself. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The girl drops the grail immediately and turns to face me, shaky and bug-eyed.
I clearly just spooked her to the bones because she’s looking at me like her skeleton wants to jump out of her skin.
Instantly, I feel horrible for scaring her like that, but I can’t go back on it now. I need answers, after all.
I march over to her and ask her again, “Who are you?”
“What are you doing here?”
She just keeps gawking at me.
It’s a little annoying.
It’s very annoying.
“I asked you a question!” I yell, my irritation getting the better of me. I don’t mean to shout at her, but her closed-mouth routine is really starting to grind my gears.
Maybe it’s because I’m a type-A personality Army Commander, but I’m not at all familiar with not being answered when I address someone.
Hell, I’m this close to asking her if she’s mute.
Shit. Is she?
She turns her head away from me, averting her eyes nervously, and I figure I’ve gone too far. She looks like she’s in frickin’ high school and I’m talking to her as if she’s one of my soldiers.
I exhale, figuring it might be better to approach this in a different way, but then…it hits me:
All her thoughts and inner ramblings.
I can hear them so clearly.
And I get hella confused by them.
She…she’s checking me out?
I can’t help myself.
My ego swells with the knowledge of her attraction to me, but I don’t dare show it.
Being admired, sexually or otherwise, is nothing new for me. I’ve grown quite accustomed to—but also weary of—the constant attention over the centuries. But, for some reason, the thought that she’s been eyeing me like that actually makes me…
And, strangely enough, I want to hear it.
“You find me attractive?” I ask.
If I thought she looked spooked before, the way she’s looking at me now definitely takes the cake. It’s comical, and it definitely answers my question.
“H-How…how do you know what I’m thinking?” she finally croaks.
Well, there’s a god after all! I think.
Lady Uncommunicativeness can actually verbally communicate.
In the minutes that follow, we go back and forth as I explain to her that I can breach her thoughts by reading her vibes. And she has pretty strong vibes, especially for a human.
Her voice is…interesting:
A bit hoarse and raspy, meshed with an unusual, melodious undertone and topped off with a sensual, whispery quality.
Like a kitten’s.
I absolutely love it.
And I want, need, to hear more of it.
As if on cue, the scent finds its way to my nostrils again, intoxicating me and filling my lungs with its crisp, unique aroma.
Between her purry voice and the elating fragrance, I quickly find myself getting aroused, feeling the onset of my dick starting to harden.
I’m not exactly sure what’s happening, but it’s almost as if I’m on autopilot, concerned only with the intense sensations I’m currently feeling.
Indeed, we’re conversing. I know that.
I’m talking with her and she’s talking with me. I’m aware of what I’m saying and everything she’s saying, but I’m just way more focused on the pace of her words, her articulation, her tone, her breathiness, and the overall air of her voice.
It’s not intentional, and I can’t seem to stop it.
I don’t think I want to.
Then I realize she wants to leave.
“…In that case, I’ll be on my way now,” she says.
No, no, no.
She can’t go just yet. I need her to stay a little longer. I curse myself for being so captivated by her voice.
Quick, think of something you blockhead!
Yes! That’s it! “What were you doing with the chalice?”
I might be trying to keep her here for my own reasons, but it’s a legitimate question.
She’d seemed awfully interested in it. Heck, she was about to down it like some mimosa. What on Earth was she thinking, taking it as if she was at a damn cocktail party?
I mean, there’s no way she could have known what was in it…could she?
She looks away nervously. “Oh…I just…I was just looking at it.”
Even if I hadn’t seen her take the chalice with my own two eyes, her averted gaze and stammers are dead giveaways that she obviously tried to do much more than just look.
I feel a grin creep up on me.
It’s actually kind of cute; how badly she lies.
It’s as though she’s just learning how. She can’t fool anyone to save her life.
“Liar,” I say, but the statement is more of a tease than an accusation.
She rolls her eyes at my remark.
The gesture is strangely cute, too—
Wait, wait, back up.
What the fuck? Why do I find everything ‘cute’ all of a sudden?
I hate being lied to.
I hate gestures of insubordination.
So, why am I suddenly okay with things I normally don’t tolerate?
Without warning, another wave of the scent hits me, much harder this time, catapulting me from my conflicted thoughts.
And it’s then that I finally realize something:
It’s coming from her.