A Beautiful Kiss
The low murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of violins wrapped around me like a cocoon. I wasn’t much of a social person, and this masquerade ball wasn’t exactly my idea of fun. But I had to try. For the sake of my research, for the funding, for everything I’d worked so hard to build.
As I moved through the crowd, I felt their eyes on me. Whispers followed my every step, admiration tinged with curiosity. A few whistles broke through the symphony, making me bristle.
This wasn’t the kind of attention I needed.
“Beautiful dress,” one man said, too close for comfort.
“Stunning,” another murmured, his gaze lingering too long.
I forced a polite smile, slipping past them and wishing I could disappear into the shadows. My nerves were starting to fray when a deep voice cut through the noise.
“Hello, Persephone.”
I turned, startled, to find a man bowing slightly before me. His mask was black with intricate silver accents, matching his dark suit perfectly. There was something about the way he held himself—confident, commanding. He straightened, and I met his gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and intrigue.
“Hades,” I replied, recognizing his mask immediately. “Surprising to meet my match here.”
His chuckle was deep and rich, like the notes of a cello. “The fates must be kind tonight.”
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Or mischievous.”
“Touché,” he said, inclining his head. “So, what brings the queen of the underworld to a party like this?”
I tilted my head, watching him carefully. “Networking. And you?”
“I’m here to admire beautiful things,” he said smoothly, his gaze lingering on me just long enough to make me blush. “And it seems I’ve found the most beautiful one of all.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Is that a line, or are you always this charming?”
“Depends on the company,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile. “But you make it easy.”
“Hmm,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you always flatter women you’ve just met?”
“Only when they deserve it,” he said, his voice dropping slightly.
The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room, was both thrilling and unnerving.
“Care to dance, Persephone?” he asked, holding out a hand.
I hesitated, glancing around the room. Dancing wasn’t exactly my forte, but something about him made it hard to say no.
“Alright,” I said, slipping my hand into his.
The music shifted as we stepped onto the dance floor, a soft waltz that felt like it had been written just for this moment. His hand settled lightly on my waist, guiding me effortlessly as we moved together.
“You’re good at this,” I said, surprised by how easily he led.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, his smile warm.
We moved in perfect sync, our steps flowing like water. The crowd around us blurred, their whispers fading into the background. For the first time all night, I felt at ease.
“Tell me, Persephone,” he said, his voice low. “Why does a woman like you seem so out of place here?”
I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “What makes you think I’m out of place?”
He chuckled. “Because you’re not like them. You have purpose. You’re here for more than champagne and gossip. You aren't giggling behind a fan and lying through your teeth and serving your pitch as this place is for connection.”
I considered his words, unsure whether to feel flattered or exposed. “And what about you, Hades? Why are you here?”
“To meet someone interesting,” he said simply. “And it seems I’ve succeeded.”
The sincerity in his tone made my breath hitch. I looked away, focusing on the steps of the dance.
“You’re bold,” I said after a moment.
“Boldness has its uses,” he replied, his smile teasing. “Though I admit, it’s easier when the stakes aren’t too high.”
“And are the stakes high tonight?”
He hesitated, his gaze searching mine. “They could be.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten, though I wasn’t sure why.
As the music slowed, so did we, coming to a gentle stop in the center of the floor. His hand lingered on mine, his eyes holding mine for a beat too long.
“You’re... familiar,” I said quietly, the realization dawning on me.
His smile shifted, softening into something sadder. “I wondered how long it would take you to recognize me.”
“Rowan,” I whispered, my stomach dropping.
He nodded, letting go of my hand. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. The warmth of the dance evaporated, replaced by a cold knot of disappointment in my chest.
“You’re disappointed,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“I—” I started, but the words wouldn’t come.
He smiled sadly, taking a small step back. “I guess you really do hate me.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but the look in his eyes stopped me. Vulnerable, almost… resigned.
“I don’t hate you,” I said finally, my voice barely audible.
“Then why…” he hesitated, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “Why does it seem you prefer me when I’m not Rowan? When you’re drunk, or when you don’t know it’s me?”
The question hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. I looked away, unsure how to respond.
“It’s not that simple,” I murmured, my hands twisting together.
“Then explain it to me,” he said, taking a step closer. “Because I don’t understand.”
I met his gaze, seeing the confusion and hurt etched into his features. How could I explain? How could I tell him that he broke me once, shattered me into pieces I’d barely managed to put back together? That the man standing before me, vulnerable and uncertain, wasn’t the same man who had torn my world apart?
“I…” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak. “The Rowan I knew was cruel. Cold. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. But you…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “This version of you—it’s different. You’re different.”
He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Different how?”
“You’re…” I paused, trying to steady my voice. “You’re softer. Gentler. It’s like you don’t remember how to hurt people. And maybe that’s why I don’t hate you.”
His expression shifted, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “So, the only way you can tolerate me is if I’ve forgotten who I was?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s not about tolerating you. It’s about… healing. And I’m still trying to figure out how to heal from the things you don’t even remember doing.”
Rowan’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he turned away, looking out toward the balcony. I followed him hesitantly, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me.
“Do you want to know something?” he asked, his voice distant.
“What?” I replied softly.
“There are moments when I think maybe I’d be better off never remembering,” he said, his tone almost bitter. “Because every time I learn something new about who I was, it just… makes me hate myself more.”
“Rowan…” I started, but he shook his head.
“No,” he said, his voice firm. “Let me finish. I know I wasn’t a good person. I can see it in the way people look at me, the way they talk about me when they think I’m not listening. And I hate it. But I don’t know how to fix it if I don’t even know what I’ve done.”
His words broke something in me, the raw honesty cutting through the wall I’d tried so hard to keep up.
“You don’t have to fix everything at once,” I said quietly, stepping closer. “Sometimes, it’s enough just to try.”
He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine. “Do you believe that?”
I hesitated, my breath catching. “I think… I think I want to.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension between us crackled like a live wire, unspoken words hanging in the air. Then, without warning, Rowan reached up and removed his mask, letting it fall to the ground.
His face was bare now, his vulnerability on full display. And before I could process what was happening, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss.
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. His hands hovered near my waist, as if he was giving me the chance to pull away. But I didn’t.
Instead, I closed my eyes, leaning into the kiss, letting the warmth of it wash over me. His lips were gentle, hesitant, and yet there was a fire beneath them that made my knees weak.
When he pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with mine, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“For everything I may have done to you that made you see me as cruel,” he said simply.
And then he kissed me again, deeper this time, and I let myself get lost in it. Just for a moment, I let myself forget. Forget the pain, the hurt, the history. For this one fleeting moment, it was just us.
When we finally broke apart, I stepped back, my fingers brushing against my lips. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t f
ace the emotions swirling inside me.
“I…” I started, but the words wouldn’t come.
Rowan smiled sadly, his gaze soft. “You don’t have to say anything.”
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