Chapter 1: The Masquerade
The ballroom swirled with color.
Spring had come to the Caldermoor estate. Flowers cascaded from the ceiling. Vines wrapped around marble pillars. The air smelled of jasmine and roses.
Every guest wore a mask. Every guest wore contacts. Spring animals. Soft browns. Gentle greens. Pale yellows. Baby blues. Amber. Violet. Orange.
I stood at the edge of the dance floor. My gown was soft pink. Fitted. A white mask with long velvet ears. A fluffy tail pinned at the base of my spine.
A bunny.
Two hours. I had danced with six men. Counted the exits. Watched the crowd. Checked every pair of eyes.
Brown. Green. Blue. Amber. Violet. Gold. Orange.
No red.
I stood by the fountain. Bored. Restless.
Where are you?
The garden was dark.
Lanterns hung from the trees. Shadows pooled in corners.
A man stumbled onto the path. Handsome. Dark hair. Laughing. A woman in white followed him. Giggling. Pulling at his tie.
“Come on,” she whispered. “No one will see.”
He pushed her against a tree. Kissed her throat.
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Tall. Lean. A fox mask. Orange contacts glowing.
The woman froze.
The figure moved. Fast.
His hand closed around her throat. Lifted her off the ground. Her feet kicked. Useless.
He snapped her neck. Dropped her body in the bushes.
Then he turned to the man.
The handsome man didn’t have time to scream.
The figure’s jaws opened. Wider than human. Teeth too sharp. He buried his face in the man’s throat.
Then he straightened. Blood on his lips.
He wiped his mouth. Slow. Deliberate.
His face shifted. Bones cracked. Skin stretched. Features rearranged.
Within seconds, the handsome man’s face stared back from the fox mask.
He adjusted his collar.
Walked back toward the ballroom.
I stood by the fountain.
He was here. Somewhere. Wearing someone else’s face.
Then I felt it.
A pull. Like a hook in my chest.
I turned.
Across the room. A man stood near the balcony. Handsome. Dark hair. An orange fox mask. A suit that fit him perfectly.
He was watching me.
Our eyes met through the masks.
Orange. Bright orange.
He smiled.
Raised his hand. Curled his finger.
I walked toward him.
He didn’t speak as I approached. Just watched. His eyes moving over me. Head tilted. Curious. Amused.
“Do you believe in love at first sight,” he said, “or should I hop by again?”
I stared at him.
Did he just—
“What?”
“You’re dressed as a bunny. I’m dressed as a fox.” He spread his hands. “Hop. Get it? I’m hilarious.”
“That’s terrible.”
“You wound me.” He pressed a hand to his chest. Mocking. “I thought it was my best material.”
He smiled. Wider. Sharper.
“Come. Dance with me.”
I took his hand.
He pulled me onto the floor. His arm slid around my waist. Hot. Firm. His hand pressed against the small of my back.
We moved.
He was watching my throat. Like he was savoring something.
“Pretty little thing.” His voice was low. Silky. “All dressed up. Soft pink. Fluffy tail. Long ears.”
His hand slid down. Cupped the tail. Squeezed.
“Do you know what happens to soft things in the dark?”
“They get eaten.”
“Mmm.” He pulled me closer. His lips brushed my ear. “They get torn apart. Slowly. While they scream. It’s all very dramatic.”
My pulse quickened.
“You’re trembling.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, you’re a terrible liar.” His grip tightened. “I can feel your heartbeat. Racing. Like a rabbit caught in jaws. Adorable, really.”
His teeth grazed my ear.
“I can smell you, little bunny. Fear. Blood and hunger.”
His hand slid up my spine. Pressed between my shoulder blades.
“Excitement.”
I sucked in a breath.
He laughed. Soft. Dark. Genuine.
“That’s it. That’s the look I wanted.”
He spun me. Pulled me back. My chest pressed against his.
“You like this. Being hunted. Cornered. Threatened.”
His hand wrapped around my throat. Didn’t squeeze. Just held.
“I can feel it. The heat coming off you. The way your pupils dilated when I grabbed your neck.”
His thumb pressed against my pulse.
“You’re not scared. You’re intrigued.”
“You’re insane.”
“I prefer ‘eccentric.’” He tilted his head. “Sounds more sophisticated.”
His lips curled. Something dangerous flickered behind the orange.
“Besides. You’re one to talk.” He leaned in. His mouth against my jaw. “That’s why you won’t kill me. Not yet. You want to see what I’ll do next.”
I froze.
Kill him?
How does he—
“That’s right.” He smiled against my skin. “I know who you are, Scarlett Kincaid. Assassin. Crimson Hollow Academy. Sent here to end something ancient.”
His teeth scraped my neck.
“Seventeen before you. All failed. All dead. Tragic, really. I considered sending flowers to their funerals. Decided against it. Seemed wasteful.”
My hand moved toward my thigh. Toward the blade.
He caught my wrist. Laughed.
“Ah-ah. Not yet, little bunny. We’re just getting started.”
“You’re him.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Elric.”
“Elric Vorynth. The First Lycan. 1,500 years old.” He pulled back. Spread his arms. Theatrical. “And you’re the little assassin they sent to end me. Bold choice. Questionable judgment. I like it.”
His hand tightened on my throat.
“You must be a plot twist,” he said, “because you just ruined my plans.”
“What plans?”
“I came here to enjoy myself. Dance. Drink. Have a little fun. Maybe cause some mild chaos. The usual.” He licked his lips. “Then you walked in. Now I can’t stop thinking about what you’ll look like underneath me.”
I drove my knee toward his groin.
He twisted. Caught the blow on his thigh. Spun me. My back slammed against his chest.
“Feisty.” He sounded delighted. “I like that in a woman. Makes things interesting.”
I elbowed his ribs. He grunted. His grip loosened.
I broke free. Reached for my blade.
He caught my arm. Twisted it behind my back.
“Pathetic little bunny.” His breath was hot against my ear. “Getting all hot and bothered for the fox. How embarrassing for you.”
I stomped his foot. He shifted. I spun. Slashed.
My blade caught air.
He was already three feet back. Hands in his pockets. Smiling like this was a game.
“I should kill you right now.”
“You could try.” He shrugged. Casual. “But you won’t. Because you like this. Being cornered by something that could tear you apart. It’s thrilling. Admit it.”
I lunged. Blade aimed at his throat.
He sidestepped. Grabbed my arm. Pulled me past him.
I turned. Swung.
Gone.
He stood behind me. Hands in his pockets. Smirking.
“But you... you’re different. Special. Possibly stupid. But definitely interesting.”
I charged. Thrust. Spun. Slashed.
Every strike missed. He moved like water. Like shadow. Like he had all the time in the world.
“I’m going to find you again,” he said. Dodging another strike. “At the next party. And the next. It’s going to be our little tradition.”
I lunged for his chest.
He wasn’t there.
“And when I’m done playing...”
His voice came from behind me. I spun.
Nothing.
“I’m going to bend you over and take what’s mine.”
I turned in a circle. Blade raised.
Empty.
The crowd kept dancing. Guests whispered and pointed, smiling, laughing, clapping softly. They thought it was performance art. Part of the entertainment.
A woman in a white mask leaned toward her partner. “Bravo! How dramatic!”
“Run along now, little bunny.” His voice echoed from somewhere. Fading. “The fox is hungry. And I always catch what I want. Ta-ta.”
I pushed through the crowd. Scanning. Searching.
Nothing.
I ran to the garden. The balcony. The entrance.
Gone.
I stood at the estate gates. Cold air on my skin.
Blood still dripping from the wound on my neck.
I found him.
Elric Vorynth.
I had him.
He got away.
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