Our Lovely Scars.

Chapter 1

"You look bored, want to come and have fun with me?" a silky voice whispered just over her shoulder.

There was Emilia De Luca turning towards a tall, broad-shouldered man in sleek black suits and styled after a raven: dark shiny eyes through the mask he was wearing seemed to hold something dangerous yet inviting. A shiver of excitement coursed through her; a rush she hadn't had in a very long while. This was the thrill she came for: to be someone unknown at least for a few hours.

"Aren't you bold, to think I'd be interested?" Emilia said, flashing a sly smile over the rim of her champagne glass as her gaze finally met his. "Besides, a girl never tells her plans to strangers."

His laughter was low and slid down her spine like a caress. "Then let me make this night worthwhile." He reached out a hand toward her. "What's your name?

“Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, her voice low but sure. She leaned in a little farther, her eyes wandering over his chiseled jawline and the faint sprinkle of stubble that dotted it. "Let's keep the details a mystery, shall we?"

He inclined his head, enjoying the cat-and-mouse game immensely. "Alright, mystery girl. Let's see if you can keep up with me."

And this was that one moment when she didn't blink, didn't falter as she reached out and took his hand; it was that one spark to what she was doing that made her heart do a funny little skitter with excitement. It was reckless and jubilant and, for the first time in so long, she didn't have to be Emilia De Luca, one of the daughters of one of the most feared men in the city. Tonight, she could be anyone and the masquerade party was the perfect avenue to pull it off.

They wove through the jammed ballroom, dodging glittering enclaves of lost revelers. The intoxication of being anonymous was pleasurable; it was a feeling she hadn't known in quite some time. She let go and breathed roses, perfume, the low hum of laughter as the moment completely overtook her.

He steered her across the room to a more quiet corner near the balcony doors, where the noise of the party had faded and left only the tension hanging in the air between them. She cast a sidelong glance at him, her gaze tracing down his wrist to the watch, just barely showing under the cuff of his sleeve. It was something. There was something familiar, impossible to place.

"You're not like anyone here," he whispered, looking into her intently. "And somehow, I don't think you belong here."

Emilia lifted an eyebrow, and the bend of her lips curled further into a smile. "Do you always charm women by trying to imply they don't fit in?"

He laughed low and real, and the ridiculousness was enough to make her grin in return. "No, but you don't seem like the type of person who takes interest in fitting in.".

She turned away, her cheeks warming under his scrutiny. "Maybe I wanted a change," she said in a low voice, surprising herself. She didn't usually share her personal thoughts with anyone, much less a stranger.

"Maybe we both needed one," he said now, softer. "One night of pretending."

She'd looked up into his eyes, and in that one flash of recognition, she knew exactly what it was that he ran from. Wanted to ask him more about it, wanted to know precisely what he was running from, but that was for tonight. Or maybe it never would be, or the next night wasn't for that.

Tonight was about a beautiful illusion: a night they did not dig too deep.

Instead, she steps forward, close enough to feel warmth. "Then let's make the most of it," she whispers.

A slow smile spread out over his face, then he was taking her hand again, hauling her out onto the balcony where cool night air wrapped around them. Emilia shivered, but before she could say a word, he was slipping his jacket off over her shoulders.

"You're cold," he murmured, his hand brushing her arm as he adjusted it.

Perhaps, she said, her eyes moving up to his, her heart racing when he bent toward her.

She couldn't deny the attraction, the electric pull seeming to hum between them. His hand rose, his fingers tracing the outline of her cheek, and she caught her breath when he whispered, "Are you going to stop me?

She allowed herself to shut in, her mouth touching his in a soft yet powerfully intense kiss, as if that was where something she hadn't known even how to name started. The world closed off for them; the only things that could be heard were their breathing, the hands circling her waist, and her heart drumming against the chest.

They parted a little, and his whispered words mingled with her breathing as he asked her, "So, mystery girl… what next?"

She smiled, soft-curving lips, and whispered back, "I think we make this night unforgettable."

*****************

They fell into one of the many private rooms within this spreading estate, her fingers tangled through his hair as they lay entwined, the remnants of their night wrapped around them. His chest beat steadily beneath her head, and she allowed herself to ease into a lazy tracing pattern against his skin.

It was so weird, this kind of intimacy with someone whose name she didn't know, yet somehow there was a comforting aspect to this that she never quite saw coming.

She shifted, feeling it was high time for her to go, as the first pinking of dawn peeped through the curtains. She raised herself on her elbows, easing herself from his arms as she hunted for her dress in the thin morning light. She felt a push of something she couldn't identify—regret? But she pushed it back down, reminding herself who she was, what her life entailed.

She had gathered her things, as something upon his arm caught her eye-a tattoo barely visible from underneath his sleeve. It had caught her eye, a curled-up serpent embracing a dagger, lovely and deadly at once, with an intricate detail hauntingly too familiar.

It had stopped her heart at first, but she bypassed it, her voice of reason telling her this meant nothing; it was some common design, not to overthink this.

She turned and glanced backward a last time, a slight smile etched on her lips as she walked away. "Goodbye, stranger," she whispered to herself for some strange ache that seemed to press against her chest.

For all the familiar pull, there was a recognition that came out for her as she slipped out of the door and down the hall, reminding herself of course it was only a beautiful memory, a small escape from reality.

"That tattoo…. " She muttered to herself furtively, looking back again toward the room. "Where have I seen that before?"