A Siren's Call
Jasper had never been one for dancing. Even as a human, only propriety ever enticed him to take the hands of the multitude of delicate Southern Belles that seemed to gravitate to his leonine presence. In many ways, the war had been a relief, excusing him from the sticky entanglement of courtships that would inevitably follow as he came to bear the full mantel of manhood. Charisma was an unfortunate asset when you had two left feet out on the dance floor.
Yet here he was now, dancing with the embodiment of beauty. The tiny, pixie-like creature twirled effortlessly in his arms. Patches of snowy white skin radiating purity in the dim light, she shone with utter contentment. The happiness was infectious as he stared into her topaz eyes. They mesmerized him in a way that distracted him even from the siren call of the young blood that gyrated carelessly all about him. For once, the sweet scent of sin did not impair him and he was able to glide along in contentment with his glorious partner snug in his firm grasp. Her skin was the siren call, juxtaposed beautifully against a delicate black satin, easily disposed of in a fit of passion.
Alice grinned up at him suddenly, cat-like and knowing. She had evidently caught where the timbre of his thoughts were leading, to another kind of dance. In this dance they wouldn't be impeded by knowing human eyes. In this dance, their passion would be laid bare. He could cater to her every infinitesimal wish. He could lead this dance, guided by the expectations underscored within her base desires. This dance, under the milky starlight, would be theirs….
"Jasper…" Alice laughed warningly. The warning didn't reach her eyes, which glimmered with the hint of a sigh.
Jasper smiled, a familiar warmth filling him even as they floated through the throngs of mortals. Alice's voice broke their satisfied silence.
"So you do like to dance."
"Only with you," he asserted. In his voice there was a promise.