DUSK BWWM

Chapter Three

Chapter three

The ballroom lights were bright above, her arms were spread out as she awaited her partner to capture her hand once more. The long tune of the waltz carried her through each turn and spin. Her eyes were vacant as she'd memorized each step and knew each place to set her foot.

She observed as matrons waved their fans before their faces, as they whispered their gossip amongst themselves. Their gowns melted together so that they faded into the yellow painted wall behind them. As she curtsied once the music came to end, she retreated from the dance floor as quickly as her feet could carry her.

The choker she wore, felt like it was truly trying to cut off her airway. She lifted a hand to her chest, and inhaled slowly. She had sought to escape the ball all together, by feigning a megrim but her father had caught her before he'd left, attempting to steal another Greek screen play. Once caught her mother had enjoyed chiding her, while calling the maids to dress her in the low-cut blue gown and dainty dancing slippers she abhorred. Her sister had been biddable, and easily lead prior to her own marriage but Stella wished for far more than being tied to male who'd treat her either as chattel or breeder.

She sighed, casing her chest to rise, she frowned her chest appeared like chocolate dough rising and falling. She chuckled at her own inner musings, only for a voice to intrude.

"May I enquire as to what has you so amused?"

The voice was accented, and peeked her curiosity, when she lifted her eyes to the person who'd dared to intrude on her moment. Her gazemet glinted iron colored eyes, that met hers boldly. His black hair was held back by a silver ribbon. His clothing spoke of a high rank, turning to fully face him, she saw that he was taller than her, and he'd not worn dancing shoes, no, he instead wore hessians. She couldn't say they didn't suit him.

"...A gentleman wouldn't eavese drop upon a ladies inner musings, nor would he inquire about them."

He chuckled, and motioned to himself, "Nor would a gentleman forsake all proper behavior, and speak to lady he'd not yet been introduced to."

She couldn't help smiling at his rebuttal, Then one can only assume, that the man seeking to learn her secret is no gentlemen."

"If she assumes such she would be right."

Something elemental sizzled between them, the two seemed separate from those who enjoyed the ball merely a few steps away. The music was drowned out by their mutually racing hearts, "May this rouge learn the name of lady to which he speaks?" he asked moving step too close, an improper encroaching of her space. And yet, Stella couldn't be moved to care. She instead lifted her hand, a curiosity arising to know just what this gentleman felt like; he took it, lifting it to his lips.

They were cold, as was his touch, but it comforted her. His icy fingers clasped hers, and she could see he held no desire to release them. "...Do you believe in love at first sight?" He asked, his voice dragging her eyes from where his lips had brushed her skin.

She shook her head, a bitterness cutting through the fog of their attraction, "Love, is not something meant for all those who roam this earth."

He lowered her hand, an odd look in his eyes, "Then what of those who roam beyond earth?"

"Then they are even more foolish for seeking such a thing," she felt her throat tighten, as her eyes never left his. Their hands still connected, as she stepped closer to him. "Why would an immortal seek that which harms, and poisons all reason."

He leaned forward, his cheek brushing against hers as he whispered his answer into her ear. "...The thrill of tasting poison is the thrill of knowing that it will kill you, but...it also is the thrill of knowing it may bring you to life." He drew back, his eyes brightening, "After all, some poisons are known to heal, Moy Ogon."