Chapter 1
Nova’s POV
My blood was boiling, and I was trying and failing so hard at keeping the emotions at bay.
I gripped the silver tray so hard my knuckles turned white, forcing a polite smile as a drunken vampire in a velvet tux snatched a flute of champagne off the tray I was holding. He lingered, his cold gaze raking over my neck, but I didn't flinch. I was used to these kinds of events, and the peace treaty forbade him from acting on whatever thoughts were clouding his mind.
"More bubbly, miss?" he slurred, and I just stood there stiff, grateful for the mask hiding the murderous glare I was sporting.
"Enjoy the ball, sir," I murmured, my voice steady despite the fire racing through my veins. I turned on my heel and disappeared into the over packed ballroom. The moment I was out of sight, I leaned against a pillar, gasping for air. I dug into the pocket of my starched apron and rattled the bottle of pills. Stiller Suppressants.
I popped two dry and swallowed them with a grimace. I hated how they tasted, but I couldn’t do without them. They were supposed to keep the sickness hidden, making me hide in plain sight. But tonight, the Blood Moon was rising, and the pills weren't working.
The loud music unsettled me even further, and I just wanted to get away from all this as soon as possible. I tried to get as far away from these people as I could, and watching them mingle, pretending they were better than each other, made me sick to my stomach.
Keep it together, Nova—two more hours. Then you take the cash and disappear.
I adjusted the cheap, scratchy lace mask over my eyes. It was mandatory for all staff and servers at the ball. The Great Halloween Masquerade. A neutral ground for the packs, covens, and clans of the city to pretend they weren't all killers. I pushed myself off the pillar, intending to head back to the kitchens to hide until the dizziness passed.
Then I smelled it.
The sick twisted smell of that lab, the sick smell of death, and dried blood. I froze, the tray trembling in my hands. I knew that scent. I had spent my entire childhood running from it. I had lost so many people trying to get as far from it as I could.
I scanned the upper balcony. There, standing like statues among the colorful, chaotic crowd, were three men. They weren't wearing costumes or masks. They wore black suits tailored to hide the holsters under their arms. On their lapels sat small silver pins with a skull at their center.
Retrievers.
My father's hunting dogs.
The leader, a man with a scar splitting his lip, tilted his head. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. He was trying to separate my scent from the others in the room; they knew I was here.
They found me. After two years of sleeping in motels, working off the books, and living like a ghost. The Obsidian Pack had found me. If they dragged me back to the lab, I wouldn't survive the extraction procedures this time. Why the hell did I think my father would stop searching for me?
I dropped the tray. And loud shattering from the champagne glasses made the guests gasp. I didn’t care if it was drawing attention, but I needed to run as fast as I could away from this place. I turned and shoved my way through the crowd.
"Hey! Watch it!" a witch hissed as I elbowed past her. I didn't stop. I needed the service exit. But the crowd was too much, I couldn’t get past them before they got to me. I needed somewhere faster. The Retriever on the balcony pointed a gloved finger directly at me as I turned to look back, and I knew it was time to run as my life depended on it.
I ducked low, running through the dancing bodies. My heart hammered against my ribs loudly. A group of witches blocked the service exit. I couldn't go that way. I turned left, toward the VIP section. It was closed off with heavy velvet cords, guarded by massive bouncers, but it was the only way to the side-alley doors.
I ducked under the rope before the bouncer could grab me.
"Hey! You can't go in there!" he shouted, but I didn’t look back. I sprinted down the dark hallway, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. My vision blurred. The heat was back, hotter than before. The wolf I had bound and buried deep inside me was clawing at the surface, agitated by the fear. “Not now. Please, not now.” I murmured to myself, hoping I would get enough time before the heat paralyzed me.
I risked a glance over my shoulder. The Retrievers were pushing past the bouncers. They were fast. Most definitely genetically engineered by my father. I turned my head back around, desperate to find a door, a window, anything to escape from them, and I slammed into something hard.
It wasn't a wall. It was someone’s chest. The force of the collision knocked the air out of my lungs. I stumbled back, losing my footing on the slick floor. But before I could hit the ground, a hand shot out.
Large, rough fingers clamped around my waist, burning hot even through my uniform. The grip was firm and possessive.
I looked up, gasping. The man was huge, and he towered over me easily. He wore a leather coat with patches I couldn't read in the dark, and his face was hidden behind a terrifying mask of a skeletal wolf skull with jagged teeth.
But it wasn't the mask that terrified me; it was everything else about this strange man. The moment his skin touched mine, everything vanished. The loud music of the party, my father’s crazy soldiers, and the raging heat inside of me all blurred into the background.
He didn't let go. He pulled me closer, so close my chest brushed against his leather jacket. He lowered his head, the bone mask inches from my face. I could hear him inhaling. A deep, shuddering breath, as if he were drowning and I was his first gulp of air.
"Mine," a voice growled from behind the mask. It wasn't a question. It sounded like a death sentence.
