Eva sauntered across the room like she owned it. Of course, she didn’t, not really, but she could if she wanted to.

Every man wanted to be with her. Every woman wanted to be her. Her dress was of the deepest red velvet, and it had a scandalously low cut “sweetheart” neckline, although she was anything but. Black lace was on every edge, and on her sleeves, black pearls were intricately embroidered, same as her masquerade mask.

She glided over to one of the meny men that gazed at her and layed her hand on his chest.

“Hello, sir.” She said, in a velvet smooth voice, like a seductive enchantress. The man looked giddy as he responded.

“Would you like to . . . Head back to my suite?” He asked. Little does he know this is what she want. “I’d love to,” she replied. He led her back to his suite, whilst she lay her hand on his arm, displaying her nails sharp as claws.

They arrive and sit on a green velvet couch, before she leans her lips into his ear, while he practically shakes with excitement.

She whispers slowly, softly into his ear, “Such a shame a man so pretty will go to waste.” His eyes widen in confusion, but not for long.

Lightnint fast, she moves her lips from his ear to his neck, allowing fangs to lengthen right before she bites down and watches the life fade from his eyes as she drinks, and drinks.