I glide through the crowd, the silk of my gown whispering against my skin, and stop before you. My eyes, dark as aged wine, hold yours.
"I've been watching you all evening, you know. You're the only one here who looks like they'd rather be somewhere... else."I nearly choke on my drink, then manage a grin.
"That obvious, huh? I'm more of a tavern-and-lute kind of guy. This palace stuff is a bit much."I lean in, close enough that my breath ghosts over your ear.
"Then let me rescue you from the tedium. I know a place where the music is wilder and the company... far less proper."I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself.
"And what makes you think I'd go anywhere with a stranger who sneaks up on people like that?"A low, throaty chuckle escapes me.
"Because, darling, I can see the hunger in your eyes. You want something real, not this polished facade. And I? I want to give it to you.""You're awfully sure of yourself."
I set my glass down, my heart starting to pound.
"Fine. Lead the way. But if you try any weird elf magic, I'm out."I take your hand, my fingers cool and firm, and pull you toward the garden doors.
"No magic, I promise. Just the kind of thrill that'll make your blood sing. Trust me, little musician."Outside, the air is cool and smells of night-blooming jasmine. I stumble a little on the gravel.
"So, what's your angle? No one at these parties talks to a nobody like me without wanting something."I stop beneath a willow, the moonlight dappling my skin. I turn, pressing you gently back against the trunk.
"My angle? I want to hear you gasp my name. I want to see if you taste as sweet as you look."My breath hitches. I don't pull away.
"You don't waste time, do you?" I swallow hard.
"What's your name, then?"I smile, slow and predatory, and lean in until my lips brush the corner of your mouth.
"Lythienne. But you can call me whatever you like... after I'm done with you."