chapter 13
1310 Words
Chapter 15 – The Masquerade of Shadows
The fortress was no longer the ruin Isabella had come to know.
By day it had been stone, shadow, and silence. But tonight… it had transformed.
Torches burned in iron sconces, throwing golden fire across ancient walls. Silks and banners cascaded from the ceilings in crimson and midnight blue, rippling in the flickering light. Musicians played violins and cellos that echoed through the hall, their melodies haunting, threaded with both beauty and menace.
The air itself shimmered with enchantment and unease. Every corner seemed alive, every shadow watching.
Isabella paused at the threshold of the great chamber, breath trapped in her throat.
It was a masquerade.
Masked figures drifted like spirits across the polished stone floor, gowns sweeping, jewels flashing, laughter cutting sharp through the music. Gold, silver, onyx—faces hidden behind elaborate masks of feathers, gems, and lacquered paint. The air smelled of smoke, roses, and something darker—like rain on steel.
Adrian stood beside her, his body tense as a drawn bow. His hand hovered near his blade, his jaw locked. His voice was low, grim.
“This isn’t a gathering. It’s a trap.”
Her wrist tingled, burning faintly where Damian’s mark still lingered under her skin—the tether that bound her, invisible yet undeniable.
“Then why invite me?” she whispered.
“Because he wants you dazzled. Wants you confused. Wants you to forget what he really is.”
But as she turned, her breath caught.
Damian.
He stood at the far end of the hall on the raised dais, towering over the masked crowd. Unlike the rest, he wore no disguise. He needed none. He was the shadow everyone else revolved around, the gravity that bent the room to his will.
The music dimmed for her ears the moment his gaze found hers.
It was like the crowd ceased to exist.
Slowly, he descended the steps, each movement deliberate. His coat swept behind him, dark and commanding, his presence drawing every eye yet fixed entirely on her.
The crowd parted without a word. Not out of respect—but out of fear.
“Dove,” he said when he reached her, his voice a low velvet, smooth as sin. He bowed slightly, mocking courtly grace. “Welcome to my masquerade.”
Adrian stepped in front of her like a shield, his voice sharp with venom.
“She’s not yours to parade.”
Damian’s smile was lazy, cutting. “And yet, here she stands. Bound by her own plea.”
Heat rushed into Isabella’s cheeks. Anger rose sharp in her chest. “Stop speaking about me as if I’m not here.”
Both men turned their full attention on her—Adrian’s gaze filled with anguish, Damian’s with hunger. For once, she did not look away.
“I will dance if I choose to,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I will stay if I choose to. Not because either of you commands it.”
Damian’s lips curved, slow and dangerous. He extended his hand. Palm up. Waiting.
“Then choose, Isabella.”
The violins swelled. The crowd spun around them, masks glittering like stars.
Her pulse hammered. Adrian’s hand hovered near hers, trembling with unspoken plea. Damian’s hand was steady, patient, certain.
And she—she placed her hand in Damian’s.
Adrian’s sharp inhale cut through her, but then Damian’s fingers closed around hers, warm, firm, binding. He led her into the swirl of the floor.
---
The Dance
The moment Damian’s hand slid to her waist, Isabella felt it.
The mark under her skin flared, pulsing in time with her heart. A searing tether.
She gasped softly.
Damian leaned close, his lips brushing the edge of her ear, his breath hot.
“Do you feel it?”
Her lips trembled. “What did you do to me?”
His hand guided her lower back, steering her effortlessly through the steps. His body moved with predatory grace, every line of him controlled.
“I saved your friend. In doing so, I bound us. Every heartbeat you feel in your wrist, know it beats in mine as well.”
“That isn’t freedom,” she whispered, breathless.
“No.” His eyes gleamed, a predator’s promise. “It’s possession.”
The violins climbed higher, frantic, wild. The room spun in colors of red, gold, and black.
Damian moved like fire and water, pulling her close, spinning her out, then back again. Every brush of his hand sent sparks through her skin. Every catch of his grip burned deeper.
Though her mind screamed to resist, her body betrayed her—drawn into his rhythm, her breath stolen, her steps falling perfectly in time with his.
“Why me?” she demanded, her voice trembling, breaking between fury and something softer.
Damian’s gaze locked with hers, unflinching, piercing.
“Because you defy me. Because you begged me. Because even when you hate me… you burn for me.”
Her chest heaved. “That’s not true.”
His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist where the mark pulsed. She faltered, nearly stumbling.
“Liar,” he murmured, so soft only she could hear.
---
The song built to its peak, the music fevered. Damian spun her, fast, her gown flaring, the world blurring. Then he caught her—hard, close, their faces inches apart.
The crowd vanished. The hall, the music, the masks—all blurred into nothing but him.
His hand gripped her waist, hot and commanding. His chest pressed against hers, steady and unyielding. His breath mingled with hers, warm, dangerous.
For a moment, she didn’t pull away.
Her pulse roared in her ears. Heat spread through her veins, the mark thrumming wildly. Her lips parted, trembling, caught between denial and surrender.
His lips hovered just a breath away. Not forcing. Not stealing. Waiting.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice raw now, stripped of mockery. “Say you don’t feel this.”
Her throat closed. She wanted to deny him, to shove him away. But her body betrayed her—her pulse raced, her breath shuddered, her skin burned alive beneath his touch.
She tore her gaze aside, breaking the spell. “I hate you,” she said, her voice shaking.
Damian’s smile returned, slow and dangerous.
“Good. Hate binds stronger than love.”
He released her suddenly, sending her spinning outward.
She stumbled—straight into Adrian’s waiting arms.
His grip steadied her instantly. His voice rough, furious.
“You don’t have to let him touch you like that.”
She clung to him, but her skin still seared where Damian’s hand had been. Her body still trembled with the echo of his nearness.
And across the floor, Damian watched them both, hunger and triumph flickering in his eyes like twin flames.
---
The Revelation
The music ended with a crash of strings. The masquerade applauded, masks glittering.
Isabella could barely breathe.
She turned, ready to demand answers from Damian, ready to tear her freedom from his grasp.
But then she froze.
Because at the edge of the dais, half-hidden in shadow, stood Ethan.
Alive. Awake.
Pale as moonlight, his body trembling, one hand braced against the wall.
But it was his eyes that made her blood run cold.
They weren’t his own.
They glowed faintly, threads of Damian’s shadows coiling within, dark smoke alive inside his gaze.
“Isabella…” Ethan’s voice was hoarse, fractured. His lips trembled. “He’s inside me.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The music died into silence.
Adrian’s sword flashed into his hand instantly, fury blazing in his eyes.
Damian only smiled. Slow. Devastating.
“The bargain always costs more than you expect, dove.”
Lightning split the sky outside, shaking the ruined walls.
And Isabella’s world tilted again.
---
- Writer
