Chapter 1 - The Bride
This is a short story in The Tropes and Triggers Masquerade Series, which is self-published on Kindle.
All are 1st person Dual POV and contain explicit sexual content.
If interested, you can purchase this story on Kindle for $0.99 or 4"x6" pocket paperback for $5.99.
The Tropes and Triggers Series
+ Bitten by Her Vampire: A Fated Mates Dark Romance
+ Breaking His Bitch: A Tough Love Cowboy Romance
+ Capturing His Butterfly: A Mob Boss Age Gap Romance (in progress on Inkitt)
+ Torturing Her Serial Killer: A SadoMasochistic Dark Romance
+ Sharing His Wife: A Second-Chance Rockstar Menage Cuckold Romance
+ Mated by Her Merman: A Forced Breeding Dark Romance
+ Fighting for Her: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance
+ The Broken and The Bastard: An Amputee Romance
+ Stripping for His Virgin
+ Passed Between The Mascot and The Captain: A MMF Hockey Romance
+ Seducing His Scientist: A Forced Breeding Alien Romance
+ The Student and The Stalker: A Non-Con Somnophilia Romance
THE BRIDE
Today’s the big day.
So far, it was nothing like I expected.
When I read that Tropes and Triggers Matchmaking Media was hosting a Masquerade, I assumed the guests would be the ones wearing the masks.
I didn’t realize every single staff person would have their faces covered. Some wore full head coverings that hid everything from their hair to their neck. Others left their mouth visible, but not their eyes or nose.
The woman behind me wore a full-face mask with black paint underneath hiding the color of her skin. The slits for her eyes were so small that I couldn’t see her eye color either.
I don’t know how she could see anything.
She wore black gloves that neatly tied into her long black sleeves.
Black on black under black over black.
Everything was black. Like a funeral.
Kind of ironic considering she was helping me into my poofy white wedding gown. It was the exact opposite of her suit: large, over-the-top, lacy and beaded, revealing in the chest and full over my legs.
It was the perfect wedding gown.
Too bad the man I bought it for was a piece of shit. I planned to spend forever with him, and he had planned to murder me on the honeymoon for my life insurance money.
Did I mention he had another girlfriend that was going to help him get rid of my body?
I shivered unconsciously.
I don’t care how much time passed, I don’t think I would ever get used to that being part of my story.
The good news is that my best friend, ahem, former best friend, had discovered the plot, confronted my fiancé, and stopped the whole thing.
It was a good thing, yet I was still sad.
I felt like Elizabeth Swann in Pirates of the Caribbean: “I’m so ready to be married.”
I had been ready for the past year.
Like, really ready.
Like, the-food-timer-is-buzzing-get-me–out-of-the-oven-before-I-start-to-burn-and-cause-a-fire ready.
Maybe that is why I missed the warning signs. I was desperate. I was ready to share my life with someone. I was ready to find my best friend . . . a new best friend.
I sighed.
The insult to injury about the whole wedding-murder fiasco is the heartbreak I felt—and not just over losing my fiancé.
I had lost my best friend. We had been each other’s rock for four years. I was a nurse for a trauma 1 emergency department, and he was a firefighter and paramedic for the city’s fire department.
Yes, he was hot.
Smokin’ hot, baby.
Which is why I never dated him.
That and he was a firefighter.
Notorious cheaters.
Take it from me ladies, never date a guy whose profession starts with P: physicians, pilots, police, and pfire-fighters.
Just don’t do it.
My fiancé?
I thought he would be the exception to the rule since he was a detective--a police detective.
How do you like that?
He knew how to catch the bad guys, so he thought he could get away with being one--and he did!--until he was caught.
Good riddance to the bastard.
We had been together for over a year, and during that time, my relationship with my best friend and “work husband” grew strained. He and I had been friends through so much and dated other people before. Our friendship always survived.
Then I got engaged, and things got weird.
After the whole murder plot, I couldn’t face my friend.
I was embarrassed.
I felt like shit.
How could I be so stupid to not see what was right in front of my face?
How could I think anyone would actually love me?
I know, I know. I’m not supposed to think that way.
But I do think that way. I can’t just turn it off.
Live through what I have, and we’ll talk about what you should and shouldn’t think.
So, what is a girl to do?
Ready for love and ready for marriage, but I’ve got a broken heart and trust issues galore.
I saw the ad from Tropes and Triggers Matchmaking Media claiming to help ROYALTY and blah blah blah. I figured maybe they would be able to help me.
Holy of Holies, they found someone.
And not only did he like me, but he wrote a letter and proposed to me.
How do you like that?
And I said YES!
A conditional yes, but still a yes. I wanted to meet first and see if we actually hit it off.
And today was the big day.
The Masquerade would open its doors in a few hours.
Two hours after that, the Official Introduction of Matches would take place.
I’d meet my “Bat Boy” trope-designated match annnnnnnnd—drum roll, please—two hours after that, I may be walking down the aisle to my future husband.
He was certainly charming, and he felt familiar, somehow, in the letter he wrote. He reminded me of my best friend, but I knew there was no way it could be him.
When Tropes and Triggers Matchmaking Media first told me I had a Match, I was beyond thrilled.
In my application, I had shared my desire for marriage.
I wanted someone sexy and seductive, like Ares from Xena: Warrior Princess.
Someone who made up for their mistakes and was always there when you really needed them, like Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl.
Someone who would be my true love and fight through whatever odds to make our relationship work, like Wesley from The Princess Bride.
Someone who would challenge me, support me, make me laugh, and be my best friend . . . like, you-know-who.
But no firefighters.
I wrote that on my application too.
No high-danger professions.
No cheaters.
Nothing too risky.
I wanted someone and something safe.
It felt like too much to ask for, but they found someone.
My own little fairy tale.
I spent months imagining who I could get:
The Greek God?
The Wall Street Billionaire?
The Pirate King?
I smiled at my reflection the mirror.
The waiting was almost over.
Finally, I knew he was The Bat Boy, and I was so close to meeting him.
Even if he ended up being another loser, and I left here unmarried and alone, at least I finally got to dress up in my perfect dress and have a big day.
