Chapter 6
1230 Words
“Scarlett! Faster. This way,” my aunt urged as we reached the entrance. I handed my invitation to the security guard and stepped inside, and my aunt left.
A lot of guests had already arrived. The whole place was themed in black and maroon. Tall maroon tables stood in circles, each holding only black wine glasses and nothing more. Black mist covered the floor except for the open space in the center, which I guessed was the dance floor.
I hadn’t mentioned it before, but this was a masquerade party. My aunt had told me this party was special. Wolves wore masks not to hide but to reveal who they truly were, their real nature, their true personality. Standing here now, I understood what she meant.
I scanned the hall, searching for the bastard.
Along the way, I noticed fascinating masks. One wolf wore a mirror mask that reflected others. It felt like he let people expose themselves while he stayed unreadable. Another wore a clock-face mask with frozen hands. Midnight. As if time had stopped for them, like they were only surviving, not living. I saw a smiling mask with hollow eyes. The smile was perfect, but it never reached the eyes.
And then I saw them.
Icy grey eyes.
His face was mostly hidden, only his eyes were visible, and it took me less than a second to recognize him. The mask he wore screamed power. Emptiness. A cold, soulless void. From what I could tell, most males wore masks that showed dominance and control, while their dates wore masks that spoke of broken souls.
I was still thinking about how to approach him when an old man wearing a golden lion mask stepped in front of me.
“Alone?” he asked while smiling creepily. His upper front teeth were metallic. “Where is your date, lady?”
“He’ll be here shortly,” I replied, turning my face away and hoping he’d leave.
But he didn’t.
“Your pack?” he pressed.
That question hit hard. Exactly what I didn’t want anyone to ask. I didn’t have a pack.
I avoided his gaze, but he stepped closer. “I asked you something. You’re disrespecting me,” he snapped, clearly irritated with me.
“She’s with me.”
Both of us turned toward the voice.
A man stood there wearing a feathered mask, very cliché, honestly, but his all-black outfit fit him perfectly. His greenish-blue eyes were striking, covered by lashes most girls would die for.
The old man muttered an excuse and walked away.
The stranger moved beside me and held out his hand. “Mathew.”
I looked at his face, then at his hand. After a moment, I took it. “Scar..lena.”
I almost slipped my real name.
He tilted his head. “That’s a strange name. Scarlena.”
“Oh no! Lena Only,” I corrected quickly.
He laughed. “Still strange. Lena only.” This time, I laughed too.
He paused for a second, then leaned closer and whispered, “I like your mask. Broken glass stitched with golden threads. It shows resilience. That’s rare among the women here.”
Yeah. I was broken. Burned. Bruised.
But I put myself back together for my family. And everyone responsible would pay.
Mathew, or whatever his name was waved a hand in front of my face. “You alright?”
Before I could answer, the background music shifted. It grew louder, and the lights dimmed out further, and people began moving toward the dance floor. I was still looking around when a warm hand closed around mine.
I looked up. Mathew was smiling as he gently pulled me forward.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I said and tried to step back.
He didn’t let go.
Instinct took over. I turned abruptly, ready to flip him over my shoulder. He sensed it immediately and released my hand at once.
“Easy, girl,” he said calmly. “No one can refuse a dance here. And since your date isn’t around, I thought I’d keep you company.”
I glanced around. He wasn’t lying. Everyone was already on the floor leaning into each other.
I sighed and apologized, then let him lead me.
He leaned in, his warm breath brushing my ear. “Just follow my lead.”
I tried.
The first two or three attempts were a disaster. I stepped on his foot more times than I could count. But slowly, I caught the rhythm. Soon, we were moving together like one body.
I had to admit he was a gentleman. He didn’t make me feel awkward or small.
But the moment didn’t last.
The music changed.
Suddenly, the warmth was gone. Mathew moved away. I stood there for barely a second before someone else stepped in.
The yellow-teeth man.
God. Give me patience.
Every time the music changed, the partners changed too.
Just great!
“Look who I found,” he said, yanking me forward by my waist.
I almost slammed into him. And his breath- don’t even get me started. It was nasty enough to make my brain go numb. My instincts took over before I could think. I stomped down on his foot with all my strength. He yelped in pain, and I shoved him away from me to create space before he could try anything else.
But while trying to create distance between us, I lost my balance. My heel caught in the long tail of my gown, and in that moment, I accepted my fate. I couldn’t save myself from falling.
Except the pain never came. My back didn’t hit the floor. When I opened my eyes, the color I hated the most was staring straight into me.
Icy grey. Ace Craige was holding me.
The instant I realized it was him, my whole body felt like it was burning. Just his touch set my skin on fire. Others might lose themselves in his eyes, but to me, they held nothing.
I tried to struggle out of his grip, but he didn’t let me go. And that was exactly what I needed. Still, I kept resisting, or to be precise, only pretending, not to raise any suspicion.
“Quit struggling,” he snapped with irritation. And I did.
For a split second. Being this close, with only his eyes visible beneath the mask, I was forced to look straight at him. And all I saw were my parents' burning bodies, their screams, their pain, and the mockery in his voice.
My breath hitched. I sucked in air desperately, my chest rising and falling too fast.
A moment later, reality crashed back into me. I broke eye contact and looked away.
That’s when I noticed something terrifying. We were dancing perfectly. Completely in sync.
He leaned closer, so close that I could feel his breath against my neck. It felt like he was smelling me or sensing me. His grip on my waist tightened, and every hair on my body stood on edge. For a terrifying second, I thought he felt it…felt me as his mate.
Then he spoke.
“I hate it when people don’t make eye contact with me.”
His voice dropped more as he leaned even closer. I felt his lips brush the shell of my ear “You smell good.”
- Writer
