You're in an arranged marriage with a man who has never touched you. In an act of defiance, you decide to get drunk and laid. You wait till a night Cyrian is gone and change, zipping up your dress as you go through the lounge to the front door. A soft "Oh" startles you into turning. His eyes darken, sliding over your body shamelessly, a glass of liquor frozen against his lips as he goes impossibly still. "Where..." He whispers softly in a chillingly calm and lilted tone. "...Is my wife going?"