Blood and Velvet - A Dark Gothic Romance
A Waltz with Death
The final note lingers in the air, stretching like a breath held between danger and desire. Their fingers remain entwined—Sebastian’s grip tight, Lucien’s steady. Neither ready to surrender.
The ballroom stills. The masked figures around them move in slow, elegant circles, but beneath the surface of this gilded night, something festers.
Lucien feels it before he sees it.
The air shifts. The weight of a gaze—too heavy, too expectant.
Then—a flicker in the chandelier’s light. A sliver of silver.
A blade. Not Sebastian’s. Not his. Someone else’s.
Lucien doesn’t think. He moves.
A sharp twist. A step forward. And suddenly—Sebastian is no longer his partner, but his shield.
A dagger whistles through the air—cold, precise, aimed for Lucien’s heart.
Sebastian catches it mid-spin, the blade slicing across the edge of his glove as he shifts them both out of harm’s way, his grip ironclad around Lucien’s wrist.
The crowd does not scream.
Because this is the Crimson Court. And here, death is just another dance.
Sebastian exhales, lips curling as he flips the dagger in his fingers.
Sebastian Voss
(low, amused, darkly pleased)Mon cher… are we already making enemies together? How romantic.
Lucien pulls free, turning sharply. Scanning. Searching. The would-be assassin is gone, swallowed by the sea of masked nobles.
(Sebastian calls Lucien "mon cher"- sweetheart/darling in French)
A whisper brushes against his ear—Sebastian, impossibly close.
Sebastian Voss
(mocking, intoxicating)Tell me, Arthur… how many lives have you stolen to earn such devotion?
Lucien tilts his head, just enough for their lips to almost touch—but not quite.
Lucien Arthur
(soft, dangerous)If you stay close enough, you might be next.
Sebastian laughs, low and wicked.
And then—he moves.
A hand at Lucien’s throat. A step forward. A silent challenge.
The weight of Sebastian’s presence is crushing and electric all at once, the scent of him—smoke, wine, something sharp—dizzying.
Sebastian Voss
(whispering, teasing, unshaken)Would that be a threat… or an invitation?
Lucien does not answer. Because suddenly—a shadow shifts at the ballroom’s edge.
Rafael.
Storm-blue eyes locked onto them. Unreadable. Unwavering.
Sebastian smirks. Because he knows.
Knows that Rafael would gladly put a bullet through his skull if it meant keeping Lucien from whatever path he was stepping onto.
But Lucien?
Because danger has always been more alluring than salvation.
And tonight… he is willing to burn.
[The Game is No Longer Just a Game.]
Comments