Her attention is fixed entirely on the document in front of her, pen flicking occasionally as she makes notes along the margins, when the stress ball whizzes past her ear. Jerking upright, she whips around to glare narrow-eyed at the culprit behind her. Dovev is lounging sideways in the chair, smirk curling his lips. “You know, one of these days, I really am going to kick you out.”
Why had she invited him to stay in the first place? Clearly she had been ill. Or drunk. Or somehow otherwise impaired.
She has barely turned back to her papers when his hands are squeezing her shoulders. Stiffening, she does her best to ignore his lips hovering far too close to her neck (even if part of her did faintly hope he would forgo common sense). But her own common sense forces her to mutter admonishingly, “Don’t you dare.”
In spite of all her sense however, she somehow finds herself leaving the house with him. How he had convinced her to go, she’s not entirely sure. And damnit! He had stolen her invitation. She hadn’t actually planned on attending the silly (and entirely fake, as her sources have it) event, but here she is, attending.
Even so, she had dressed for it. She couldn’t very well arrive underdressed, after all, no matter how unwilling her attendance is. The long white dress hugs her slim frame perfectly, a thigh-length slit revealing one shapely leg. The modest neckline, made much less prim by the lacy cut-out that reveals her decolletage, circles her throat. Her mask is a lovely one of white and gold with sharp little horns rising above her eyebrows, framed perfectly by curly red hair swept into a loose updo.
Dovev being Dovev however, disregards propriety entirely. He pulls her to a halt before they reach the door, whipping out a pair of masks from gods know where, wicked grin lighting his features.
“Oh hell no,” she begins in an irritated exclamation, fingers flying up to grasp his forearm as he tugs the plain black mask over her eyes. Her struggle is only half hearted, but the mask does nothing to hide her scowl at his scold to leave it on. Leaning forward, her fingers moving to lightly stroke his jawline, she whispers, “You owe me big time if I do.”
Lips quirking into a faint smirk, she readjusts his collar before stepping back, features settling into their icy calm once more. Once his mask is secured, she allows him to sweep her into the dim confines of the massive ballroom.
He barely pauses when the woman atop the staircase commands their attention, his impatience obvious as she speaks. Heartfire, of course, does not actually need to have eyes on her to see. A particular skill of hers. As he drags her towards the DJ, she sighs softly, long suffering as he makes his demands of the music. She tries not to notice that mischievous smile of his. She knows him well enough by now to know it cannot mean anything good. Or rather, it cannot meaning anything she would actually appreciate.
As he pulls her against him, her hands come up automatically to land on his chest, ensuring he leaves at least some space between them. His breath whispering against her ear causes shivers to race along her spine, but his words bring a frown to her lips. “You’re the one who’s insisting on a party,” she grumbles back, before admonishing, a bit more loudly, “And quit calling me babe.”
She blinks momentarily when he flicks the masks on before pausing to stare at the teeth flashing across his face. Damn did she wish she could see what he’d chosen for her. A second later and a peek through his eyes, she sees her own face, completely hidden by a cat mask flashing as brightly as his demon teeth.
Could’ve been worse, she supposes.
But then he’s dancing, eyes fixed upon her as he rolls with the music. Staring back, she scowls. It’s not like he’s leaving her much of a choice, unless she wants to look entirely foolish. (Excuses, excuses, but she needs them).
Eyebrows winging upwards at his sudden shout, she watches in faint amusement as he proceeds to dance in tandem with some young punk that apparently wants to look just as ridiculous as Dovev.
Despite her derisive thoughts, she doesn’t resist when he pulls her in again. Instead she sighs before stretching her arms up to curl around his neck as she moves in time to the music with him. “You better find me some damned alcohol so I don’t have to remember I did this.”
i see your sins
and i want to set them free
Her dress: https://sassydresses.ie/wp-content/uploa...1218-2.jpg
Her mask before Dov hijacks it :| https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/...UX562_.jpg