Behind the Mask | Emily Prentiss x Reader [18+]

Unmasking Desires*

Her eyes gleamed, a spark of something dark and delighted flickering in their depths. She leaned closer, the space between you shrinking to a whisper. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" she murmured. Her hand moved up your arm and back to your wrist again, her thumb stroking a slow, teasing circle against your pulse point. "I like that."

You shivered under her touch, the intimate gesture sending a thrill through you.

She glanced over her shoulder at the crowded ballroom, the throngs of masked guests mingling and dancing under the golden glow of the chandeliers. "What do you say we step outside? I could use a smoke."

You hesitated, your instincts whispering caution even as a thrill of excitement shot through you. This woman—whoever she was—felt dangerous, but in a way that made your blood sing. There was something magnetic about her, something that made it impossible to resist her pull.

She watched you carefully, her gaze intense, as if she was trying to read your thoughts. "Come on," she said, her voice dropping to a coaxing murmur, making it sound less like a request and more like a command you found yourself eager to obey. "It's quieter out there. And I'd like to get to know you a little better... without all these prying eyes."

Her fingers slipped from your wrist to lace with yours, a bold, confident move that had your pulse skipping a beat. She gave your hand a gentle tug, a silent invitation. She turned, giving you one last heated look over her shoulder before she began weaving her way through the crowd, her crimson gown trailing behind her like a ribbon of blood in water. Your feet moved before your mind could catch up, letting her guide you away from the bar, her hand warm and firm in yours.

You followed her through the throng of guests, weaving between clusters of masked figures until the noise of the ballroom faded to a distant hum. You expected her to take the nearest exit leading out to the terrace, where many guests had gathered for fresh air, but she surprised you. Instead, she veered left, pulling you down a dimly lit hallway, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that danced across the dark wood paneling. The noise of the ballroom faded behind you, replaced by the quiet, steady click of her heels on the marble floor. Her grip on your hand was steady, almost possessive, as if she couldn't bear to let you go now that she had you.

You glanced at her, the question burning on the tip of your tongue. "I thought we were going outside?"

She smirked, glancing over her shoulder at you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe I changed my mind," she replied smoothly. Her thumb brushed over your knuckles, sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I want a little more privacy."

Before you could respond, she pulled you into a side room.

She released your hand, stepping deeper into the room. Her gaze swept over the space before landing back on you, a slow smile curling her lips. "Much better," she murmured, her voice low and husky, the quiet intimacy of the room amplifying every word she said.

You took a moment to look around. The room was quiet and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of aged books and leather. Heavy bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes that looked older than the mansion itself. A large mahogany desk stood in the center, its surface cluttered with papers and pens, while a plush chaiselounge and a low book table sat in the corner—inviting and intimate—and the balcony overlooked the darkened garden below.

The door clicked shut behind you.

You took a step toward the balcony, needing a moment to steady yourself. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow on the room. You stared out into the garden—the shadows of the trees dancing in the breeze—trying to catch your breath. You could feel her eyes on you, the weight of her gaze like a physical touch.