Gabrial

The chords of the small string orchestra nestled in the corner of the enormous ballroom vibrated throughout the room, becoming one with the her pulse.

The woman's dark burgundy colored lips were curled into a soft, heart-jolting smile and skeins of vulcanite-black hair toppled over her shoulders as her languorous eyes gazed at the tall, broad-shouldered man holding her gently with his callused fingertips which brushed the naked flesh of her back, as they swayed to the rhythm of the music.

The man's identity was hidden by the dim lighting of the luxurious lyceum, but judging from the way the light caressed his face, he has high cheekbones accompanied with a straight nose. Heavy, solemn brows rested atop his eyes and a dark mop of hair accented his face.

The clinking of wine glasses and the rustling of stunning ballgowns was muted to her ears as she danced with the esoteric man. She became intoxicated with his scent and obsessed with the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. It was as if he captured her soul, and had absolutely no intention of giving it back.

Dragging her slender fingers down his torso, she asked him a question that has been eating up her insides: what is your name?

He leaned down, kissing the delicate spot beneath her earlobe and whispered his name languidly, each syllable rolling off his tongue smoothly.

Gabrial.