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Elena danced.
Lazily. Floating like eiderdown blown about by a gentle breath.
Beneath the sparkling tears of the heavy chandelier that hung over the entry hall was Elena. She wore a gown of deep purple velvet with its modest waist and scandalous décolletage. Her hair, if she were a proper woman, would be a soft bun of black silk at her nape, but she never bound the thick tresses and they swayed, a curtain of rich strands, flowing with the movements of her body.
And would not the gracious marble tiles be cold to her bare, delicate feet?
From the shadows upon the balcony, his body concealed by the ancient draperies of crimson, Cheval watched his beauty beneath the chandelier as she danced. Alone, perhaps in her thoughts as she moved to a music heard only by herself, he felt a stirring in his blood, his heart and soul. His tongue darted out, just the tip, to caress his full, lower lip, and then to rest, just briefly, upon the tip of one needle-sharp fang. The pressure drew forth a glistening drop of blood...
Within the time it took to draw in a gasp of surprise Cheval was behind the sublime Elena. Moving with her his body close enough to brush tantalisingly against hers, he reached around and swiftly caught her by the chin, forcing her head to turn; to present him with the feast of her mouth.
The drop of scarlet life, now upon his tongue, he proffered, and her tongue delicately met his, taking the sacrament. Her body turned to face his and her hands swept up to his own dark locks held by a gentleman's ribbon. Her fingers moved to sweep the ribbon away so that she could lace her fingers into his hair and draw him down into the kiss they had begun.
"Temptress," he whispered in a breath against her ear. A fang trailing down her throat as he nipped the tender skin.
"My monster," Elena moaned, and now her dance became theirs.
The chandelier's diamonds glimmered to a faint dim as Cheval drew his beauty down upon himself, to make love, their eternity.