Cursed Angel (edited from "a dark angel turned me")

He:
Just one kiss. Slight brush of a devil's lips. A quick death snaring kiss from one of hel's prince. She'd see eternal peace. It's for the best, I told my heart. Yes, she'd be dead. A painful dead too. But the hurt in her eyes were way beyond the slight discomfort of dying.

She:
We stood still for a moment as the song ended. My eyes locked with his dark menacingly beautiful ones. Dazed by the all the dancing and the delightful atmosphere, the sweet music in my ears, the even sweeter after-taste of bubbly drink in my mouth, I looked on dreamily as he bowed at me, holding my small slender hand in his. Then he ever-so-lightly brushed his ruby lips against the pale skin above my knuckles, the touch felt so soft on my hand..and..frosty cold, like an icy chill at the spot where he kissed. I gasped at the cold twinge that intensified by the second, like a tiny ice block shoved under my skin's surface, growing bigger and colder.

To my horror, the chilly sensation evolved into a searing pain and I cried out, screamed in agony. Thousands of tiny knives pierced my hand, slashing and tearing, painfully carving a way inside. A blood-curdling shrill, frantic plea for help yet nobody took notice. The dancers kept twirling and swaying by the dance floor, merry chattering never ceased nor falt, no fork-held hand paused, not one champagne sipping guest turned my way. I clutched an agonized hand to my chest, hot tears slipped unnoticed.