A bead of sweat caressed his forehead, as if giving him warning, his euphoria was quickly gaining. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he felt his heartbeat increase with each calculated step. He could vaguely decipher his body move through crowds of mingling bodies, each person wrapped up in their own ecstasy.
His person simply flowed, the superiority radiating off of him. Bodies struggled to make way, sensing the calibre. A musky scent lingered through the air, humidity rising at every contact. Though the compellability of the air did nothing to seduce his senses. He kept his mind sharp, and focused on his one mission. His eyes, however clouded, were trained to detect the slightest signs of deceit.
His mask was carefully applied, showcasing but none emotion, dripping with uncaring ness. His eyes did not linger on anything in particular, but simply scanned his surroundings; testing his environment.
He searched for any loophole that would essentially secure his success. This was what he was truly focused on. Otherwise, his thoughts, for the most part, were highly inactive. But, that was why he was considered as such an influence.
But not necessarily a good one.
Most would call him a killer, monster, murderer. Of course, it was justified. The sole murder of his entire clan essentially laced him in darkness.
And he never managed to get out.
He painted his own picture, he made his own decisions, however shrewd they might have been.
With the slightest movement of hand -one so small if one didn't pay close attention you would not have even seen- he adjusted his slick black mask, and halted. His momentary pause caused a distraction in his train of thought, and stopped him from noticing the looming figure in the background.
However illusive the figure might have been, his mind was far too sharp as to not have felt something suspicious.
He found himself weaving his way to the back of the ballroom. The music filtered throughout the room, echoing off the vast walls and high ceilings with a certain appeal. He vaguely wondered why this mission was centered around a masquerade. But, he wasn't going to question his Leader's words; he knew better.
The candlelight cast a dim glow as the raven haired masked man stood, illuminating the room in a faint resonance of warm colours. For now, he would simply wait. His target would eventually make her appearance.
But he didn't consider the fact that everyone's face was concealed behind a mask, as well as his own. That sole problem would make it more difficult; he'd have to rely solely on instinct.
It was a fairly elementary mission: assassinate Hiyashimaru no Takaro's daughter. The man himself, of course, being already dead. Courtesy your not-so-friendly s-class missing-nin.
And now to annihilate the successor to the throne.
He watched, silently contemplating his next move as people filtered on and off the ballroom's dance floor. It would be simple: decipher, deceit, decapitate.
He'd find the jaded woman, make idle chit-chat, and in a momentary gain of trust on her part; he'd slice her throat.
His eyes wandered around the various faces. And by chance, he caught himself looking straight at a certain, peculiar woman. His black orbs focused on her, levelling the woman with a blank once-over.
Clad in a simple red dress, he noted, she brushed a tendril of auburn hair off her face, and daintily placed it behind her ear. He watched her with silent fascination, unconsciously narrowing his eyes behind his mask. Leaning back into his stool, his orbs traveled in a deliberate slow motion, starting from the tips of her feet, to her hips, breasts, and finally face.
He found the music becoming gradually slower, her movements flowing and ladylike with each step. She simply watched the crowd, a tiny, playful smirk painted on her delicate face. Each movement spoke grace, a certain regal appeal. She was tall, he noticed, with a straight posture and elegance. Her auburn hair shone under the candlelight, parted in the middle and cut just slightly below her chin. He found himself watching her every move, even as people filtered past her, obscuring his view -if only for a moment- he willed them away; just for an other glace.
She slowly turned, as if teasing him -even though she most likely knew naught of the pair of eyes centered on her. His mouth formed a thin line, eyeing the delicate muscles in her long back. He grabbed onto his dark dress pants, willing the clawing feeling in his gut to just dissipate.
And by chance, she turned, her light crystalline orbs locking with his. They glowed like jewels from behind a crimson mask. Like tentacles weaving there way around his body, her eyes pulled him closer; as if not wanting to let go. He found himself moving, walking towards her.
The playful aura to her did not falter, instead, she levelled him with a look of her own. He reached out, delicately, she placed her hand in his. He bent down slightly, his lips applying a fleeting kiss on her smooth skin. He straightened his back, eyes never retreating from her heated gaze.
For the first time that night, his gruff, husky voice spoke in monotone.
"May I have this dance..."
Her orbs sparkled, gently, she placed both hands in his and smiled slightly. He took this as a silent acknowledgement, and softly tugged her towards the floor. The room suddenly gave way to a new music. It was foreign to his ears, a low tune with a fast beat background.
The lyrics echoed off the walls, enveloping the room in a heated grip. He couldn't understand the magnitude of it, somehow, it made his heart increase which each interval.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, each touch enticing a fiery sensation in his gut. Her other arm placed tentatively on the back of his neck. He suddenly realized how tempting her lips looked- full, red, luscious. Before he could contemplate how close in proximity they were, the woman's leg wound it's way around his- only succeeding in bringing her closer to his body.
He felt a sliver of a shiver run down his back at her scent- feminine, simple, seductive. He locked orbs, noting the slight sparkle in her eye. The woman stared for a moment as his arms wound there way around her waist, she parted her lips slightly, voice catching in her throat as a small smirk tugged at his lips.
"You certainly are a better dancer than most," she remarked casually, hips grinding down just ever so slightly.
"As are you."
She jerked her head back, parting her mouth in an intake of air. "And what a pleasure this is; I haven't grown accustomed to having someone keep up with me." Her voice came out low, slightly raspy. He couldn't help but notice how light her tone was -slightly low, deceptive almost, alluring.
"Pleasure's mine..."
He slipped his hand lower, pressing softly on her lower back, leading her into a low dip. Her hands unconsciously gripped on tighter, one weaving its way into his hair, lightly touching the sensitive skin on his neck. She let out a low laugh. "Don't talk much, do you?"
He responded with a simple look of his own, letting his fingers graze her backside. She smirked, "And who do I owe this dance to?"
"Itachi." he responded simply; not wanting to give out any more information before his mind became clouded with euphoria. She turned sharply, narrowing her eyes from behind her mask.
"Hmmm... You're a nin."
At that, Itachi raised a brow -her body slammed into his- with a groan, he rested his head in the crock of her neck.
"As are you."
Her could feel her grip his shoulders tighter, body grinding against his. She giggled. "Really? How might you have known."
"Simply. I just observed. The man who came up to you... he touched your arm -you turned your head before he was even in close proximity..."
"Observant, I see."
"Hn..." He breathed in her scent. "And you are?"
"...Takaro Sakura..."
She felt his body stiffen, breath hitching in his throat -but only for a moment.
"I see..." His voice oozed coldness. Dipped so cautiously in a low tone. Realization flooded his senses. "You are Takaro-"
He suddenly became very aware of the pair of lips crashing onto his own. Her touch seemed to drive him to the point of ecstasy, making him shiver in pleasure. He felt her hands tangle themselves in his raven locks, his finding her own auburn tresses. He closed his eyes, revelling the new feeling that entered his body:
Lust.
He felt an urgency in each fleeting touch, leaving him breathless for more. And all he could do was respond with a force of his own.
"Itachi..." His name escaped her lips.
And suddenly, the world stopped spinning; and he was left breathless and panting. She gave him a rueful smile and hissed so lowly, voice dripping with venom.
"You've failed Uchiha Itachi."
'And I've danced with deception...'
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