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The Masquerade Ball

Chapter I

By Jo AshleyPublished 2 years ago 9 min read
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Thunder rumbled outside the castle however the roaring sky was drowned out by the waltz music streaming around the room in enchanting swirls, poisoning the ears of all the guests at the ball. Chandeliers hung from above casting bright shards throughout the ballroom providing the room with a heavenly gold glow.

Everyone danced in unison to the sway of the waltz, like a murmur of birds bouncing in an organized cluster. Ladies’ satin and silk dresses swept along the floor, shining in muddled colors of gold and yellow—none matching Delilah’s black ballgown—as they twirled about their masked partners. The men were all dressed the same, each in a sleek black tuxedo, the only variety in their masks.

All were dancing but two, two lonely souls.

Delilah watched in envy at the gorgeous women rock in perfect harmony, longing to prance along with them while she had a spectator. He studied her from across the ballroom, taking into detail each feature of her face her black laced mask allowed.

Her small upturned nose and her rosy cheeks flushed with excitement and awe, and her mesmerizing eyes which looked through her mask, hiding her identity from him. Everything about her was alluring, from her lips that were plump and pink, to the whimsical wisps of her hair that drew attention to her jawline and collarbones. But her beauty did not stop at her face, it was prominent in every curve of her body, in every movement she created.

Delilah’s ballgown’s bodice cinched over her torso emphasizing her hourglass figure, the neckline of the dress was strapless, a sweetheart plunge that gave only a teasing view of her ample cleavage before turning into lace where it traveled down her arms, and it was as tight as a second skin. The flesh of her neck was a vast contrast to her dress, soft-looking under the light of the party. She must be new or not from around here, for surely he would have remembered such a captivating youthful woman. The curiosity ate away at his beginning. He must know his mysterious lady.

Dracula stood from his throne on the stage and descended the few steps to the dancefloor. His movements compared to ripples in the water. All his subjects, wary of their Master’s disturbance, and their eyes followed him like hawks. But he ignored his people and made it to the floor where he planned to walk straight up to his prey.

As his subjects knew what he’d been studying, a bold woman thought to help her King and threw herself out of the waltz rushing to Delilah’s side. She grabbed the girl’s hands and with a roguish smile, she pulled her into the dance, into the deep clutches of the trance the music held over everyone. Delilah panicked for a moment, she had never learned this dance before, but her feet took on a mind of their own and mimicked the other women in sync.

Spinning along with the other ladies, Delilah’s partner was a rather tall and handsome fellow with dark fluffy hair, who wore a devilish smirk while he led her with confidence. As their dance continued, she found herself imprisoned in his eyes, lost in his waltz, the newcomer held a graceful air to his movements she discovered to be fascinating. To finish, he dipped her in sync with the others and she felt his lips brush against her neck gently. They mirrored the thought of feathers against her skin.

Immediately, the man noticed a wave of anger radiate through the room, emitting from his King. Her companion made direct eye contact with him and lifted her back up and sent her to the next suitor.

Her watcher became infuriated with the young fellow’s audacity and stepped in only to get caught by the dance’s current. He mindlessly went through the motions, never taking his view off his cherished gem, slowly getting nearer to her after every rotation. But it seemed as if time itself was working against him, prolonging the inevitable as long as it could to keep the innocent lamb from walking into the claws of the beast that awaited her.

He growled in frustration as he analyzed the other men, putting their hands on what he would claim as his. With each members’ swap, she got closer without knowledge. She was only arms-length away… but in another man’s. Finally, when she pivoted into the grasp of him, the music climaxed with powerful, haunting vocals.

Dracula bound her close into the embrace of his frame as if he would never release his prized possession, and instantly the electricity flooded through them. Delilah gasped and looked up at the stranger with confusion, but it dissipated the longer she stared until everything had left but bewitching admiration. Even with his plain black mask, Delilah could see his apparent allurement. His skin was like marble, pale and smooth and in perfect contrast was his blood-colored eyes and long black hair. His charm came with a crown of authority that rolled off him in waves and he enchanted her the same as a snake charmed its prey.

They had disappeared in each other and jointly they spun until they forgot reality and it was only the two of them. Eventually, the initial shock morphed into desire, something more sensual and she let her head fall back as he twirled her around.

The emotions, the melody, the sense of him caging her against him showered over her soul resembling something of liquified seduction. When she brought herself upright, he was tighter to her than ever before, both their breaths mingling together. Dracula leaned forward gradually until his mouth was centimeters in front of hers. Delilah’s heart tripped over the thought he would kiss her, but when he didn’t she pondered what his touch would be like against hers, what he would taste as. She furiously blushed at her improper notions, however, it was all washed aside by the hushed sound of his smoky voice tainted with a Romanian accent decorating all his words. He whispered things in her ear, sweet nothings that caused her body to come alive. It swelled her stomach with butterflies of anticipation and gave her flesh goosebumps, filling her mind with bliss.

She gasped in delight when his soft lips tickled her ear and shivered when his breath fanned against her skin. When he tightened her against his body it made her feel like she was on the edge of peril, that at any moment he could crush her with his arms, but with the same embrace, he could protect her from all harm. She stayed content, teetering over the line of danger and safety. As he slowly stopped spinning her to a stand-still, then pulled away from her. It was noted by everyone but them that they now stood at the center of the dancefloor.

Dracula stared into her forest green eyes with an intensity that made her blush like a ruby, he smiled. There was something odd about his devilish grin, his canines were sharper than most, but Delilah was too blinded by his timeless beauty to notice.

“Who are you?” She whispered, her voice sounded like an ethereal melody Dracula had long forgotten.

Dracula’s eyes glanced down at her lips with lust before he returned his gaze to her eyes. “My darling now is not the time for questions,” he playfully scolded. “For now, we dance.” As soon as his hands pulled at her waist, reeling her into his figure Delilah’s body jolted, and her eyes opened revealing her bedroom.

She gasped and shot up from her bed, she was no longer at a ball but instead her empty apartment bedroom. There was no longer a delicate mask over her face, nor was her body dressed in a gown fit for royalty, instead she was dressed in her tank top and cotton shorts for pajamas, and alas, there was no man to sweep her off her feet, only her cat who stared at her from the threshold of her room.

Delilah sighed and let herself fall back onto her bed, staring at the blank ceiling above her. This morning would make it the seventh time she’s had this dream, occurring every week. What did it mean? She could have spent all day in bed reliving the dream, reminiscing every detail of the dance, of her mystery man but it would all be in vain, plus, looking at the clock now she had only an hour before work.

Wordlessly, Delilah rolled out of bed, greeting her cat Tombstone before walking into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and get a bowl of food for her baby.

“Here you go, Tombstone,” she announced, setting the small bowl of kitty food on the kitchen floor.

Tombstone flocked to the bowl, settling down in front of it, small crunches of his food came from his mouth as he chewed. Delilah patted his head before standing back up and turning around to start her everyday cup of coffee in the morning. As soon as it beeped at her Delilah turned away and headed back to her room and into the attached bathroom.

The first thing she did was turn the water on, adjusting it to her desired temperature before stripping and climbing into the shower. The water washed over her tense body, foolishly she pretended the droplets of water that rolled down her curves were the touches of him, the man from her dreams.

After having the same dream twice she told her closest friend Charlotte about it, her conclusion was that Delilah hadn’t been touched by a man for so long that her conscience was making things up to give her some kind of satisfaction. By the fourth time the dream had occurred, she had no other explanation and simply accepted it was because her sub-conscience missed a man’s touch. The sixth time it happened Delilah had bought a vibrator to hopefully stimulate the touch of a man and prevent the dream from happening. But this morning proved that wasn’t the case.

Delilah stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her body, and left the bathroom to the kitchen. Her pot of coffee was already done, the last few drops gurgling into the full pot. While Delilah poured herself a glass, her cat jumped up onto the counter and watched her with her wide green eyes. They stared at one another before she sighed and patted her cat’s head again.

“I’m not crazy,” she whispered before returning to her room to get dressed.

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