Music Recommendation: When she flows- Jef Martens
As Vincent led her towards the dance floor, Eve noticed people's eyes moving to look at them. It had been hard not to stay low-profile, and walking with Vincent holding her hand was the opposite of low-profile. She didn't dare to look at anyone as she followed him. Vincent's hold on her hand wasn't harsh, nor did he forcefully drag her, but it was firm to let her know she couldn't slip away from him.
When they reached the dance floor, some of the couples left as they were done dancing, while a few were intimidated to share the same space as Vincent Moriarty.
"I think I might pass out," whispered Eve.
"Breath, no one is going to kill you," Eve heard Vincent speak to her, but her vision was blurred in slight panic and anxiousness.
Eve blinked a few times while standing in front of Vincent. She calmed her breathing and finally met his eyes. She asked him in a low voice, "People are going to talk. It won't reflect well on you."
"And when has something so trivial bothered me?" Vincent raised his eyebrow.
The light on the dance floor was dimmer than the rest of the room, where the moonlight passed through the large glass window on the room's ceiling before falling on the dance floor. Soon the music started to build.
Vincent remarked, "Don't tell me you don't know how to dance."
"Of course, I do," Eve replied with a slight glare.
"Careful, Ms. Barlow. A glare can go too far sometimes," and though Vincent said this, his lips twisted into a wicked smile. He stepped forward, putting his hand on her waist before it smoothly slid behind her back to pull her close to him. "Let us see if you really can dance," he challenged her.
Eve took the challenge by placing one hand of hers on his shoulder and the other that held his hand. Though she hadn't attended anything like this before, she did attend a few local town gatherings that held music and dance.
The people who weren't dancing and were nearby continued to look at the couple who stood out from the rest of the other people on the dance floor. A lot of them wondered who the woman was, with whom Vincent Moriarty had bothered to dance with.
"What a lovely gown she is wearing," murmured one of the women, who was fanning her face with the wooden fan in her hand. "I thought it was usually Lady Annalise or Lady Marceline who wear outstanding gowns, but it seems like we have another woman with great taste."
Another vampiress, who stood next to the one who spoke, commented in a whisper, "If you ask me, I think it is the best gown in the entire ball. Don't you think so?"
"Maybe you are right. I have never seen her before, who is she?" Asked the first woman. "For Vincent to dance with her, she must be from an esteemed family."
Marceline, who stood not too far away from these two women, picked her name being brought up in conversation. Instead of being usually praised, she was being compared to the human governess.
One of the women said, "I never thought Vincent would be making his appearance on the dance floor. Only if I was that woman now."
Quietly glaring at the human, Marceline couldn't believe what her brother was doing—dancing with a person beneath their feet. To make it worse, the guests were not only praising their governess's gown but also how beautiful she looked.
"I am going to ask her for a dance later," said a vampire who stood nearby, "A beautiful woman. I wonder where she is from and who she is."
"Not before I do," stated another vampire, and Marceline's hand clenched so tightly that the glass she held broke into pieces, some piercing into her skin and winced softly.
"Are you alright, Lady Marceline?" Asked a man, and Marceline offered a sweet smile.
"How silly of me to not pay attention to the glass," she said with a smile.
One of the men was quick to pull out the handkerchief and offer it to her, "Please use this, milady."
"Thank you, Mr. Leverer," Marceline behaved as if she didn't know what she would have done if the handkerchief was not offered to her. A nearby servant quickly appeared to clean and remove the glass pieces. But though most of the glass pieces was on the ground, Marceline didn't drop one glass piece and hid it in her dress.
Back on the dance floor, Eve and Vincent danced to the music played on the piano and violin, along with other instruments.
How strange, thought Eve to herself. After meeting Noah earlier, she had believed that he would be her first dance partner this evening, but instead, it was Vincent.
Her eyes didn't look away from Vincent's eyes, which increased their chemistry in the spectators' eyes. They both moved back and forth and then to the sides. Somewhere in the middle of the song, one of her feet wobbled. For a moment, Eve was sure that she would step on his foot and everything would go downhill.
But Vincent caught her more firmly, pulling her towards him and letting her body to slant as he leaned forward. Their eyes met again, and Eve stared into his red eyes. Vincent's silver hair was brushed back to let one see his eyes more clearly.
They didn't speak, but their eyes did.
Vincent pulled Eve slowly while her hand clutched his shoulder even after she stood back on her feet.
"Don't hide."
"What?" Eve asked him, startled.
"Standing in the corner and moving like a tiny cockroach, don't do that," remarked Vincent, and he had her body turn before holding her hand and bringing her back to touch his front.
"I never did that," denied Eve, and Vincent chuckled.
"You didn't think about it?" Questioned Vincent, and Eve turned back to face him. "You shouldn't dim your light to let others burn. Because they won't just burn, they will turn you to ash. Well in relation to the cockroach, you would be trampled. You want to know something?"
"I am not sure if I want to," replied Eve, as she moved backwards when he moved forward.
Vincent's eyes sparkled in mirth, and his tongue ran across his fangs while he stared at her. He said, "Do you know how you look tonight?" Eve knew what he was going to say. Like the rest, he was going to complime—"You look like a high quality drink."
"… that's comforting," she responded, and the grin on his lips widened.
When it was Vincent Moriarty, one was to expect the unexpected.
​​As the song being played moved towards the end, Eve dared to look at the people, and her eyes fell on Noah, whose eyebrows were furrowed in distaste. He didn't look away from her and Vincent dancing.
As Vincent and Eve were still dancing, Eve looked back at Vincent, who was closely watching her. He stepped closer and whispered next to her ear, his breath cold,
"Looks like someone is unhappy that you are dancing with me."
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