Chapter One

The room was crowded with elegantly dressed, masked individuals. The room was romantically lit, soft music intertwined perfectly with the mellow, warm atmosphere of the summer evening. I sat at the garishly decorated table cluttered with candles, wine glasses and place setting cards. Plucking up the small coral card in my place and lifting it to the candle, I was able to distinguish the words written. Patch Cipriano.

Oh well, I thought, dropping it to the table and adjusting my silver mask, if this 'Patch' wanted his seat so bad he should've sat in it.

It was the annual Masked Ball for the town of Coldwater and my mother forced us all to attend, going on about how it's 'about time we made an appearance in this new town,' and to not be "snobs". My mother was off somewhere socialising, typically. My father's plain black mask had been discarded after the first five minutes before he headed to the bar. Which left me to my own devices, when, having none, left me bored and uncomfortable. At least with this mask not everyone was staring at me like I was the cure for cancer.

My purple silken dress was soft against my thighs; my skin was golden in this dim light. Not for long, though, I thought with dismay. Coldwater was not known for being particularly sunny. I stood up, smoothing my dress down and brushing my dark hair back. I wobbled slightly in the ridiculously high black shoes I was forced into; almost twisting my ankle when I swerved around to retrieve my clutch bag I had almost forgotten.

I straightened up and turned around, almost breaking my nose against someone's chest. "Oof, excuse me." I muttered, annoyed. I tried to edge around him, but he stepped in the same direction as I did, causing that whole awkward side step thing. I glared up at him, and then froze cold. Through his red devils mask shone two black, fathomless eyes. Those eyes sliced into me like a chilled knife, I suddenly felt transparent, cold darts running down my spine. His olive skin was shown to its full potential in a sharp white shirt, tucked into black pants. His sleeves were rolled casually up his forearms, showing smooth skin gliding over hard muscle. My neck hurt from having to look up at him, his eyes rested a full head higher up than mine. Tousled black hair swept across his forehead, piercing his cheekbones and curling at his collar. I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it. He grinned a pirate's smile.

"I do believe that's my seat," he murmured, nodding to his place card. I looked back at it, and then to him.

"You didn't seem to want it before," I said, annoyed at how breathless I sounded. He gave a ghost of a smile.

"But I do now," he tilted his head; his eyes sweeping up and down my dress, "nice dress, by the way."

I shivered, then darted around him. "Have your seat. I was just leaving anyway." I turned hastily, planning to get away from this guy as quickly as possible, when I slipped. I told Mum the shoes were stupid. The knife-like heel went one way while my foot went the other, causing the heel to snap right off. Just before I hit the marble floor strong hands caught me, grasping my elbows and hauling me upright. I was about to thank Patch when I put my weight down on my right foot. I gasped at the twinge of pain that stabbed at my ankle. "Ouch, oh crap, my ankle," I groaned, stumbling into his hard chest.

"Sit down," Patch ordered, pulling out his chair.

"No," I gritted my teeth, crouching down to undo the shoe straps, "I just want to get out." I waved my arms, almost over balancing until he gripped my wrists and pulled me up, pushing me down onto the chair. He dragged out another abandoned chair and sat, snatching up my leg. I gasped at his cool hands on my calf and struggled to keep my dress at a decent length. "What are you doing?!" I demanded, shocked. Who the hell do you think you are?

"My name's Patch," he raised his eyes to me, in them was a slightly challenging light. I didn't miss that he hadn't answered my question. The one actually spoken, I mean. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

My jaw dropped, hanging there for a moment before I blinked and shut my mouth. He winked. "I-I'm Elle," I don't know how I managed to remember my name as I watched his long fingers sliding my hazardous shoe off my swelling ankle, very gently rotating my foot so he could have a closer look.

"I didn't know you were a doctor as well as a mind reader, Mr. Patch," I said, trying to distract myself as the pain made another appearance. His mouth curved slightly.

Patch held up my shoe, eyeing it as if it were a bomb. "Killer shoes, Elle." Amusement flickered in his eyes as the heel dangled, literally, by a thread.

"Emphasis on 'killer'," I rolled my eyes, biting my lip. His eyes stared at my mouth for a long moment, long enough to bring out an unhappy flush on my cheeks. "Stop staring, thanks," I snapped.

"You're blushing,"

"Am not," I pouted childishly. I heaved my leg off his lap and snatched my shoe from him. Then I limped painfully away from his alluring persona.

"Where are you going?" Patch asked casually, keeping pace with me easily as I worked my way through the maze of masks.

"Some place where you're not," I muttered, "and to get some ice," I added more audibly.

"Kitchen's that way," he said, pointing behind us.

"No!" I moaned, feeling the red flush of anger creep up my neck.

"I'll get some, meet you back at the table," and with that he disappeared swiftly into the crowd. I couldn't even see the table from where I stood. Screw that, I thought and continue the way I had intended to go. Outside.

The pleasant summer breeze caressed my heated skin when I pushed the heavy oak doors open. I hobbled slowly to the low wall enclosing a small garden. Perching myself on the cool stone, I pushed my mask up over my head.

Patch was hot. Really hot. But there was something about him that...wasn't right. He seemed dangerous, not the usual idiotic bad- boy- stereotype kind of danger, but something inhumane. Those eyes were like black ice, and when he stared into mine it felt like the ice was locking itself around my heart. The doors opened, and I just had time to lower my mask again when Patch rounded the corner.

He flashed his teeth in a feral smile as he appraised me awkwardly draped over the wall. "I needed some air," I said in a way of explanation.

"Sure," he said, sauntering over, "your ice, madam," he held out a cold pack to me.

"Thank you," I took it, looking down. The cold caused me to suck in a breath when I placed it against my ankle.

"Midnight's coming," he said, sitting next to me.

"That's nice," I said, distracted.

"Midnight is the big...revealing," Patch said.

"Oh, right. Everyone takes their masks off."

"And if some are lucky, it's more than just your mask," He slid his eyes slyly to me.

"Uhh, ha-ha," I stammered, cheeks glowing.

"You blush a lot, Elle. Is it just because you're with me?" Patch nudged me, almost sending me flying off the wall.

"I do not!" I cursed myself inwardly, "Are you always this..."

"Charming? Charismatic? Devilishly good looking?"

"Cocky?"

"I don't need to be," he said quietly, lifting a hand to my neck. I sat frozen, before shaking myself and sweeping his hand aside, shivering.

"So you're from Australia?" Patch asked, stealing my shoe, holding it away from my reaching hands.

"Stalker," I grinned ruefully.

"It's your accent... "

"Right, well yeah. I recently moved here from Australia because my Dad's job offered him a promotion. And for some reason we were stationed here." I lifted the cold pack to inspect the damage. "I think it's going down," I murmured, relieved.

"What does your father do?" Patch asked.

"Would it seem stupid if I said I wasn't really sure?"

Patch slid his eyes to me, the corner of his mouth pulling up. "Maybe you should be suspicious then," he smirked.

I raised one eyebrow at him, then remembered he couldn't see my eyebrows, "Mafia, maybe."

"Fugitive."

"Alien?"

We were interrupted in the midst of our musing by the clock tower chiming twelve ringing tolls.

"Midnight," Patch turned to me, "may I do the honours, or do you wish to unveil yourself?"

"You first," I said, feeling slightly self conscious next to his dark beauty.

"As you wish," he brought his hands up to his red mask and slowly pulled it up away from his face, slipping it over his head. I gasped quietly at the uninterrupted beauty of his face, the suggestive wink he gave me. "Your turn."

Slowly he lifted his large hands to my face; one hand cupped the back of my neck as the other unfastened the tie that held my mask in place. It fell away in a shimmering mass of silver and black ribbon. I looked down, suddenly afraid to look at him but he put a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Elle," he breathed, moving closer to me, placing a hand on either side of me, trapping me. Patch leaned in closer, so close that I could smell his breath; mint. His lips were inches from mine, and I, unthinkingly, leant closer. Just before our lips met he chuckled softly.

"Careful, killer," he murmured, "we don't want you to get hurt," and with that Patch pushed off the wall, his mouth curved into a slight smile, and he walked away. Away from the lights, from the people and into the darkness where it rapidly consumed him. Soon I was alone.

My heart was hammering in a way as if it had just escaped a terrible danger. Patch wasn't dangerous...but what did I know.

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