A Moth Into A Butterfly

AN: I bought Criss Angel's book today, and though I haven't started it, I *had* to write this fan fiction. My JD one is NOT on hold, I just usually have a couple projects going at once.
The soundtrack will be listed as the chapter title, as usual.
Let me know if you like it!

Dedication: Charliam, because she puts up with all my shenanigans, bought me a type writer, and loves me.
Ero Sennin, let's face it. She rocks my goddamn socks.

Chapter One: The Sacrament

When Criss first saw her, she was standing in a crowded room, wall to wall bodies. There was no particular reason he should have noticed her. There was no spot light on her, no suddenly tinkling laughter that struck his ear. There was nothing but her, herself.

She was wearing a black dress that went down to her knees, which fell off her shoulders. Her collarbone stood out, and he wanted to go over and lick it, to run his tongue along that ridge, to taste her flesh. Would she be salty? Would she be sweet? Or would she have that sticky, bitter taste that came from the alcohol of perfume?

Criss pushed through the crowd to her. She wore her hair in curls, pinned up off the back of her neck. She had eyes that he could only describe like sunrise. They weren’t red, or pink, or pale lavender. Rather, they were that certain shade of golden that makes you lose your breath when you see it, staining the early morning sky. She was the type of sunrise that made you feel like the earth was being reborn, and that everything that was to come to be would belong solely to you.

Criss took her hand. She was wearing elbow length silk gloves. They felt cool and slippery in his palm, and his heartbeat increased. He swallowed.

“Hello,” she smiled, her voice creamy, even as she shouted over the music.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to dance. He wanted to feel her body against his, hot and steady to the beat. But he just could not ask a creature such as this if she wanted to dance. She wasn’t made for dancing.

“Do you want to go someplace quieter?” he asked instead. To his surprise, she nodded. Holding onto her hand, he pulled her towards the exit. They would find some fresh air and his car.

Once they were out of the club, onto the sidewalk, she smiled. Her cheeks had stained a pearly pink. He could only guess it was from the heat. Her hair, he now saw, was black. It hadn’t just been the darkness in the club.

“Where do you want to go?” she asked. He looked at her, standing in that black dress that clung tightly to her waist, that lifted her breasts. He stared down at her cleavage. Criss took in the way her calves were tight, the way her was almost given a glimpse of her thighs. He saw her full, blood red lips and smiled.

“I want to go anywhere you are. You pick, you tell me where you want to go and I’ll get us there.”

“You’re adventurous.” A small smile graced her face, and he burned with pleasure down on the inside.
“I love adventure.”

“So do I,” she offered him her arm, small and pale, pale white. She was wearing dangerously high heels, but to her credit, she could walk in them with a grace he had only ever seen in runway models.

“Well, let’s go off and have one then.”