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Description
He was… magnificent. Fine-boned, well-toned and every inch a predator. Of course, she didn’t trust him. You didn’t survive long in this kind of world by trusting people. Especially not members of such an old and powerful family. All those facts couldn’t stop her from watching him across the busy party. When she finally tore her eyes back to the city’s skyline she could feel his gaze prickling the back of her neck. A few moments later, she could sense his presence, approaching. Ignoring the instincts which were screaming at her about danger, self-preservation, fight or flight, she turned slowly to meet his piercing blue gaze.

“Gabriel Sinclair. An honor.” She murmured, tilting her head to him just slightly.

His gazed roamed down her body, seemingly hunting for any hint of malice or danger. “So… the ‘White Raven’ reveals herself at last.” He said, his voice a quiet, dangerous purr as his gaze once again captured hers. “May I know your name, fair lady?”

“You sound impossibly old fashioned.” A single perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. “Vivian Blanca.” She offered her hand and watched him take an impulsive half-step backwards before his rough hand gripped hers. “Afraid of something?” She purred at him, her features tugging upwards into a half smile, eyes flashing. “Then again, I suppose you lived through those eras, didn’t you?” His silence spoke volumes. “I thought so.”
She turned away again, back to the skyline. “Nice view.”

She could feel him step closer behind her. “I’ve seen many like it.” He leaned down on the rail beside her, all coiled, tense panther ready to pounce. “I prefer country or sea vistas.”

Her dress of feathers rustled as she shrugged. “Those all look the same, to me.” She could feel his eyes on her, but chose to ignore it.

He continued to gaze at her until the music shifted, a new song starting. “With that simple statement you highlighted the differences between us.” He straightened and offered his arm. “May I have this dance?” Her hand slid into the offered space.

He led her to the dance floor, stepping into the beginnings of a slow waltz. Soon, they dominated the floor, a space clearing around them as the mortals gazed, mesmerized by the perfectly unified, fluid movements that only the supernatural could master. Hours slipped away like seconds, never the same dance twice. It was late now, the once crowded black-tie event now sparsely populated, most of the guests having left, and he pulled her into a spicy tango. He tugged her back into his arms after a spectacular spin, his lips near her ear, where he purred, “Come upstairs. Stay tonight.”

A lesser being might have accepted, given in to the alluring predator before her, but not Vivian, not the White Raven. She lifted her face, lips inches from his ear as she slowly untangled her limbs from his, whispering, “Ask me tomorrow. I might say yes.” With that, she walked off into the night, leaving a single blood red feather from her dress drifting in the breeze for him to muse upon.

Description
He was… magnificent. Fine-boned, well-toned and every inch a predator. Of course, she didn’t trust him. You didn’t survive long in this kind of world by trusting people. Especially not members of such an old and powerful family. All those facts couldn’t stop her from watching him across the busy party. When she finally tore her eyes back to the city’s skyline she could feel his gaze prickling the back of her neck. A few moments later, she could sense his presence, approaching. Ignoring the instincts which were screaming at her about danger, self-preservation, fight or flight, she turned slowly to meet his piercing blue gaze.

“Gabriel Sinclair. An honor.” She murmured, tilting her head to him just slightly.

His gazed roamed down her body, seemingly hunting for any hint of malice or danger. “So… the ‘White Raven’ reveals herself at last.” He said, his voice a quiet, dangerous purr as his gaze once again captured hers. “May I know your name, fair lady?”

“You sound impossibly old fashioned.” A single perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. “Vivian Blanca.” She offered her hand and watched him take an impulsive half-step backwards before his rough hand gripped hers. “Afraid of something?” She purred at him, her features tugging upwards into a half smile, eyes flashing. “Then again, I suppose you lived through those eras, didn’t you?” His silence spoke volumes. “I thought so.”
She turned away again, back to the skyline. “Nice view.”

She could feel him step closer behind her. “I’ve seen many like it.” He leaned down on the rail beside her, all coiled, tense panther ready to pounce. “I prefer country or sea vistas.”

Her dress of feathers rustled as she shrugged. “Those all look the same, to me.” She could feel his eyes on her, but chose to ignore it.

He continued to gaze at her until the music shifted, a new song starting. “With that simple statement you highlighted the differences between us.” He straightened and offered his arm. “May I have this dance?” Her hand slid into the offered space.

He led her to the dance floor, stepping into the beginnings of a slow waltz. Soon, they dominated the floor, a space clearing around them as the mortals gazed, mesmerized by the perfectly unified, fluid movements that only the supernatural could master. Hours slipped away like seconds, never the same dance twice. It was late now, the once crowded black-tie event now sparsely populated, most of the guests having left, and he pulled her into a spicy tango. He tugged her back into his arms after a spectacular spin, his lips near her ear, where he purred, “Come upstairs. Stay tonight.”

A lesser being might have accepted, given in to the alluring predator before her, but not Vivian, not the White Raven. She lifted her face, lips inches from his ear as she slowly untangled her limbs from his, whispering, “Ask me tomorrow. I might say yes.” With that, she walked off into the night, leaving a single blood red feather from her dress drifting in the breeze for him to muse upon.