Green Elixir

The dark restaurant swirls with colored lights, rainbows sliding by, striped rain across his face. Lime brightness catches his eyes, their jade milkiness lit by a fire within. Magic's tendrils pull at the air, and when his fingers brush hers she pretends not to notice, only half-heartedly rebuking her gaze as it tries to glance sidelong at him.
He is endearingly rumpled tonight, having pulled a now-discarded dress shirt over his hunter-green T in an attempt to fit in with the more formal dinner party. Another emerald flash and she notices he is leaning closer, offering her his bottled green elixir. She acquiesces to the color that has now become her poison, laughingly drinking to her demise.
His fingers grasp hers and she follows him to the dance floor, Latin music beating through the concrete and into her bones as she lazily sways to the melody, losing herself. Her skin is flushed with more than the heat from the bodies packed around them and she suddenly breaks free of the cocoa arms loosely circling her waist. She breathes deep, gathering her thoughts. This isn't her, and yet, it feels right, as if it should be, as if it is. She closes her eyes against the hot pulse pounding in her throat and when she opens them again he is in front of her, waiting to make her his prisoner.
She breathlessly accepts.

They are in his car and he fiddles with the radio, almost nervously, she thinks, and this calms her.
It feels so taboo, he and she, soft vanilla cream and dark, heavy, delicious mocha. She feels almost smothered by the palpable chemistry in the tiny cabin of the vehicle; instinct tells her to escape. Danger edges the breeze sighing through the windows and like prey she senses his predatory vibe.
She must leave. She must resist. Her hand is on the door handle but his hand is on her neck, forcing her eyes to his...and then she is under his spell, captive Duchess to the rebel Lord and God help her, she relishes the fire on her skin.
They lean in...

"Wait," he whispers. He holds her there, the summer air like a symphony of electric sparks, heat and colors and the cold shiver of impending regret. Heat melts ice, though, as his lips find hers. He is passionate and demanding, his full mouth like a drug. He knows what she wants without knowing her at all and in the midst of her scattered thoughts she marvels at the irony.
But he is dark earth and she the white moon, and in reality she knows they exist in two opposite worlds, two different planes.
She feels a prick of sadness, but for what she doesn't know. Scaling Mount Everest seems less formidable than a pursuit of happiness with this green-eyed Wizard. She sighs her goodbye, ignoring the slight protest of her heart.
But magic left its mark.

She still tingles at the memory.