Wiley was in no shape to move.

Dawn had entranced him with
potions all through the night on
top of Charlotte’s original love                           spell.

He was in love and there was no
escape nor would there ever be.

He was Dawn’s slave and she treated
him worse than an animal, making                             him
cower in the corner if she so much
as raised a hand. He was forced to                   sensually
massage her feet and long muscled
legs, licking the soles clean of the               layers
of grime they had collected in her
death and resurrection.

He had no doubt she was
the center of his universe;

the universe having collapsed
to the size of the tips of her                              ringed
gypsy toes.