My Rival, My Mate

002:A MAN PLAYING EDWARD MOREAU

NOVA

I couldn’t breathe.

The air was stifling, heavy with the scent of exotic perfumes and the sharp tang of smoke from the gilded sconces that lined the walls. It wrapped around me like a shroud that seemed to tighten with every heartbeat.

The ballroom was vast and glittering, filled with the hum of aristocratic laughter and the soft hiss of silk gowns brushing against polished marble.

Every face in the crowd was painted with a practiced smile, and that was a mask that hid the eyes of the people I had spent my entire life learning to read. Yet even as I studied them, I felt the sharp, pricking sense of being watched.

My fingers curled tightly around the glass in my hand, the cold surface grounding me in a world that was spinning just a little too fast. I needed to be somewhere else… anywhere but here.

A sudden noise made me flinch, and I looked up, half-expecting to see him standing there with his pale, calculating eyes boring into mine.

His presence was like a storm, powerful and silent, just waiting to break. But the space before me was empty, save for a couple murmuring in the corner. It was as though the heat of him had been an illusion.

I let out a shaky breath.

“Nova,” a voice whispered in my ear, and my skin prickled with recognition.

I turned to see my cousin Callum standing there with his dark eyes glinting with something that looked almost like amusement. The sharp, angular lines of his face were partially obscured by the shadow of his mask. It was one of the few things that suited him: the dark, brooding veil of mystery.

“What do you want?” I whispered, forcing myself to smile. A smile that was a little too bright and a little too brittle.

Callum’s lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve got that look in your eyes, the one you only get when you’re about to do something reckless.”

I straightened, holding his gaze. But my pulse quickened. The air between us felt tight. I knew he was right. I was teetering on the edge of something, a decision that could send me tumbling into the abyss. But I couldn’t let him see it. Not now.

“Reckless? Me? You've got the wrong cousin.”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “Don’t play games with me, Nova. You know better. This may be a ball of masks, but you’re not the only one who can see through masks. I can see through you, Nova.”

I stiffened, the weight of his words pressing against my chest.

Did he know? Had someone whispered one of my secrets to him? The truths I carried as close as my own heartbeat?

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, a flare of shame and defiance. No, I couldn't let him know. Not yet. Not ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, my voice wavering just enough to make it feel real.

But he wasn’t convinced.

“You need to stay hidden,” Callum said, the tone of his voice shifting, softening. There was a sharpness to it now… a warning that I could feel deep in my bones. “Tonight isn’t the night for you to be seen or found out.”

I blinked, my fingers tightening around the glass until the crystal bit into my skin. The noise of the ballroom faded into a dull roar.

If Callum knew, I had to assume that my aunt and her husband might know too. And if the news spreads further; everything I’d worked for, trying to prove I was a competent she-wolf, was in jeopardy.

I forced a smile, nodding like the clever, composed lady I was supposed to be.

The orchestra struck up a familiar waltz, a song that tugged at something deep within me. A chill traced the curve of my spine. The guests shifted and moved, looking for dance partners, their laughter and chatter like a tide that swept the floor clear.

And then I saw him… again. The man who spoke to me in Edward Moreau’s accent.

He stood by the marble staircase now, his dark hair falling over his forehead in dishevelled waves. His tailored coat was cut so sharply it could have been forged from the edge of a blade.

He dressed more like the faggot werewolf, Edward Moreau. But, I can swear he's not Edward. Edward Moreau acts like an obvious gay, but, this one in Edward's mask and hairstyle acted more… manly.

When our eyes met, his smile was slow, dangerous, like he’d just caught me in a trap I didn’t know I was in.

The room seemed to shrink as he walked toward me again, his gaze never leaving mine.

I wanted to move, to slip away into the crowd. But my feet were frozen to the polished marble beneath me. I was a deer caught in the headlights, a wolf with nowhere to run.

“Nova,” he said, his voice rich and dark, the syllables of my name tasting like sin.

He was close now, his presence enveloping me. The heat from his body radiated out, making my pulse stumble in its rhythm.

If he continued throwing off all that heat with a primal smell, he'd get caught. And he'd bring out my wolf from her hiding place. I swallowed, trying to steady the storm inside me.

“You're not Edward Moreau,” I said, testing his patience to see where it'd lead. “Imposter.” That single word was a spiteful challenge. A question. A plea for something I couldn’t name.

His smile widened, but there was no mirth in it.

“Nova,” he repeated, this time with a touch of mockery. “We’re not strangers, are we?”

I was caught off guard because he spoke so well in Edward's accent. I almost believed he was Edward Moreau. But I didn’t let it show.

“Strangers? We could be. That's if you take off that mask and turn out not to be Edward Moreau,” I said, feigning nonchalance. But my hands were shaking now. Those were small tremors I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Careful,” he whispered, leaning in so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear. The whisper sent a shiver down my spine. “Careful with your words, little wolf.”

The music swelled; the waltz was more forceful now, pulling the guests into its rhythm, pushing the walls of the room outward. It was a dance I knew too well, a dance that hid betrayal behind every step.

I met his eyes, searching for some hint of what he was after, something that would tell me how to play his game. Was he a part of our pack? My family never let me meet people, how would I know? Maybe he's a part of our pack.

But there was only darkness, deep and fathomless, with no answers and no safety.

“If you are here to do evil or cause chaos, then you'd regret it when you're found out,” I warned, my voice as sharp as the dagger I had hidden in my room, where no one could find it.

“Chaos? Maybe I am here for that. But, you seem so inquisitive to know who I am.” His eyes darkened with a fleeting emotion I couldn’t place; desire, perhaps, or something more dangerous. “I'm getting bored of calling you by your name. How about I call you… Mate?