Twelve Days of Hawtness

Day 1 | Auld Lang Syne (2) | Alayna-Renee Vilmont

CHAPTER 3: THE RAVEN

Gaetano opens the door, guiding her slightly to a side chamber that lay beyond the sitting room. It was an opulent home, one with so many dark little places for dark little deeds. He listens to her words whenever she speaks, and he begins to believe her a conjurer of illusions, a natural-born Siren weaving him into a elaborate dream. He is drawn to her, mesmerized by her. She is careful with her touches, but when she offers them, they feel like lust personified.

It is the raven black hair that he is drawn to. The way it fell over her creamy and flawless skin convinced him of what she was. It is, he deduces, why she hides it under a wig, though not well enough for his imagination. Taking her hand, he guides her over to an ornate chaise. He is as tall as Eleni, and neither are small of stature. He places his cane to the side and looks up at her for a long moment. Leaning in, he does not kiss her or touch her, but merely moves the pins from her hair, one by one. She sits rather still, almost like a beautiful doll, and this arouses his lust painfully. Lifting off the wig, her long and pitch-black hair tumbles down. "Tell me, Madame Eleni, what are you thinking at this moment. Do I interest you? Do I attract or repel?"

Her merry little laugh is accompanied by long lashes showing a flash of the eyes that fascinate him so; it is obvious in his own eyes that his heart quickens just at her small words and glances.

"Yes, Monsieur, you do interest me. You are unique, and also have a sense of charisma that is almost..well, inhuman. One hears stories of angels and devils with such powers, but in an ordinary man, it is difficult to resist."

"Or, perhaps, a vampire so enchanting she is inspired by the demonic succubus?" He smirks at Eleni playfully. "I hear books are written where such fantasies are all the rage. For some reason, it is always the man who is a vampire and infernally seductive. I wouldn't mind a female counterpart to spark my own dark fantasies."

His eyes study Eleni's, though she does not blink. "I will go first. I am most old-fashioned, mia cara Signorina. A gentleman should reveal himself and his intentions first, as you must know." He pauses, looking around as if checking they are alone and there is no evidence of this ever taking place, whispering so none could hear him. There are rumours that Gaetano is not only insanely narcissistic, but also consumed by paranoia. There is a strong foundation for such rumours.

"My first secret is, Madame Eleni, I only arranged for this party because I wished to see you. I knew you were here, and even in such a state of grieving, you could not resist. You like to be admired, Eleni, do you not?" He let the name roll off his tongue, tasting it as he spoke. Speaking it feels addictive. "No. Let me rephrase, as we are telling the truth of our secrets, aren't we?"

This he admits with a wicked smile, striking a flame deep inside Eleni that makes her reach for her champagne glass. His voice returned to that octave that could vibrate inside her. She felt it alive as a tangible object, exploring tentatively around her and skirting her very depths. "I staged this party not only because I knew I should meet you, Madame Eleni, but because there is something about you that I must know. I don't know what it is, but it torments me, ever since I first heard someone speak your name. Perhaps only you have the answer."

Eleni's face is still concealed by the masque, but it barely hides the shocked parting of her lips. "You did this for me? You do not even know me, not in the slightest, except for the fact we share a taste for beauty, wealth, opulence, and admiration that would make me believe us related---in a sense. Perhaps not blood relatives, of course, but kindred nonetheless."

Her use of the word is like a snake darting out its tongue, exploring, taking the first tentative step toward the truth. "I do not have the answers you seek. I have had instances of those believing themselves in love with me at first sight, but that is more to do with my presence. I am flattered I fascinated you, Maestro Gaetano, but I have no answers and deserve no such flattery.