by Kiersten Fay
The Vampire's Masquerade
Kiersten Fay
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
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The Vampire’s Masquerade © 2018 Kiersten Fay
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All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
1
Kasima Wilder gripped the black-velvet clutch in her lap as if it were a release-triggered bomb set to explode. Downing the last swallow of her wine, she signaled to the bartender. “Another, please.”
All around the nightclub, gossamer drapes hung like the spidery webs of a temptress’s lair, giving glimpses into dark alcoves, ripe with secret liaisons, while the carnal pulse of sensual music flowed from hidden speakers.
Though Kasima knew all about the infamous nightclub, Ever Nights, and its owner, Cortez, a vampire who had practically founded Riverstone, raising it up from a desolate war-torn patch of land to a rare, thriving destination spot, she never thought her first visit would be attending the annual masquerade ball. This was not a normal night for the club. Tonight was special, catering to guest’s baser desires.
The entire town went nuts for tonight’s event. Mostly because it drew in rich tourists from all over the continent, both human and vampire, which greatly benefited Riverstone’s economy as a whole, but also because in the days leading up to the event, Ever Nights offered a chunk of tickets to locals at a discount. That was how Kasima first assumed Brian had gotten hold of their tickets. Turned out he’d bought them months before.
She was still stewing over that. And yet here I am.
There were three types of people here tonight: club members who could afford the astronomical yearly membership fee, friends of those wealthy club members invited to share a single wild night, and a handful of lucky locals. Of all of them, Kasima was probably the only one who regretted coming.
Ass planted firmly on a barstool, she waited for her refill. Coming over, the bartender flashed a movie-star smile, showing off his sharp fangs—of course he was a vampire, as were many of the staff—which he seemed to enjoy showing off, if only for the shock-and-awe reactions he received from some of the out-of-towners.
Though Kasima lived in Riverstone, she didn’t make a habit of hanging around the prevalent vampire community, and knowing she was in a den full of them was unnerving. When the bartender once more flashed those pearly whites at her as he refilled her glass, she played it cool, even as the hairs on the back of her neck sizzled. She held her clutch tighter, till her knuckles screamed. She didn’t belong here. Surely everyone could tell.
Once more alone, she fiddled with her mask. The pressure around her nose and cheeks wasn’t bad, per se. Just a nuisance. When the air around her stirred, the tiny white feathers that lined the edge tickled her skin. She would remove the thing altogether if she didn’t think that would draw attention. Maskless at a masquerade? She’d be a goddamned spectacle.
She peeked around the room—one out of many currently in use. Though there were probably hundreds of people in attendance tonight, they were all scattered throughout the many lobbies and lounges within the twenty story club that also doubled as a hotel for its wealthier members. Her dark little room boasted maybe thirty or more guests, many dancing and smiling and otherwise deep in reverie while several others either lounged on a set of sofas that curled around each of the four corners or sat at the booths that lined three of the walls. The three-sixty bar was the centerpiece, though she felt practically invisible sidled up next to it. Perfect.
The atmosphere here was surprisingly subdued compared to some of the other rooms. Before she’d claimed her little out-of-the way corner, she’d taken a quick tour of the club. She shouldn’t have been surprised—she’d heard the rumors about Ever Nights’ masquerade ball—but still, she was surprised by the openness with which some individuals groped one another, exploiting the anonymity of their elaborate, bedazzled masks. After stumbling into a room where an orgy was in full swing, she’d ducked in here and hadn’t moved since—leaving her far too much time to fret about what her wayward boyfriend was getting up to. She didn’t have to wonder for long.
As Brian entered the room, a small gaggle of women in tow, all masked as animals: a cat, an owl, and a peacock. She hated that theirs all looked nicer than her simple dove. Electronic pop music hip-bumped her eardrums, though she could still hear their faint giggles. The four of them found an empty booth near the door. Kasima faced the bar, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed him or his beautiful entourage.
I agreed to this, she reminded herself. It’s just one night.
It had been Brian’s idea to come here tonight. For weeks, he’d been talking her into it. Begging, really. Come on. It will be fun, he’d told her, acting all nonchalant about testing their relationship in such a fashion. Like a one-night-only free pass for each of us. That was how he’d sold it. A last night of freedom before we take our relationship to the next level. He’d made a face at the last part, a micro-wince, but she had noticed. Pretended not to. Like always.
Her argument? If two people want to be together, they shouldn’t be contemplating sleeping with strangers.
Yet here she was, watching him—trying not to watch him—flirt across the room, potentially gearing up for a ménage.
She’d always been fiercely loyal to whoever she was with, and it hurt that Brian wasn’t entirely all in like she was. But she’d promised to give him time, and she could put up with a lot. It was practically her talent. Not a great talent, but you take what you get. Yet, all night she’d been wondering if she could accept this philandering, even for a single night. If she should.
This inner debate had been warring all night. She really liked Brian. He was a journalist for the Tribune where Kasima worked as an assistant to the editor. They’d been coworkers for a few of years before dating. Brian had always given her his ridiculously charming smile as he passed her desk on his way to meet with her boss, Mr. Dixon, which, to her great embarrassment, had always made her blush. She suspected he enjoyed her reaction, but he hadn’t really pursued h
er till last year. And she had let him, delighted to have caught the eye of someone like him; charismatic, ambitious, handsome. All the women in the office swooned over him.
To be fair, she and Brian hadn’t been dating exclusively until roughly three months ago when she had breached the subject. They were still adjusting to the new dynamics of their relationship. And though Brian had agreed “to try” being exclusive with her, tonight had been one of his exceptions.
She took a sip of her wine, letting the delectable flavor wash over her nerves. It’s just one night.
She lightly tugged at the silky fabric of her low-cut blouse, chosen in hopes of keeping Brian’s attention. The rest of her outfit followed that aim. Her skirt was short, tight, and hugged her ass like plastic wrap. Her fuck-me boots were miles high black leather that wrapped her calves in a cozy embrace. She’d taken extra care with her hair, piling it up in a messy bun with strategic curling tendrils, exposing her delicate neck. One of her best features, in her opinion. It was only after they’d pulled up to the club that it dawned on her that they were about to enter a vampire-rich club. Did someone order the extra juicy neck? Luckily the only one she’d come across was her brawny, my-biceps-are-too-big-for-this-shirt, bartender. Thankfully he remained professional. Not that she’d expected him to leap across the bar and randomly fang-fuck guests, but when you’re the meat in a room full of carnivores, you tend to be on guard.
Her ploy to hold Brian’s affections had flopped at the start.
As soon as they’d entered Ever Nights, Brian’s eyes had flashed with excitement as they’d wandered a sea of skin and tightly bound dresses. He’d hastily kissed the top of her head and then beelined it straight towards a group of scantily dressed women whose outfits made Kasima look downright wholesome. In fact, most everyone here outshined her in some way or another. Even some of the men.
She took another sip of wine and glanced over to where Brian and the three women cozied up to one another. Which one would he sleep with tonight? Or was he going for a trifecta?
She gritted her teeth and turned away, pain lashing her insides. I can’t do this. I can’t watch this. It’s too much. How can he not know how much this will hurt me? She hadn’t made it clear to him. That was why. Stupidly, she thought this would be easy. Since they hadn’t been exclusive very long, she thought this would be like nothing. And maybe she’d have a little fun too. But she didn’t want to have any fun. At least not with a stranger. And watching Brian seduce other women was gutting her.
It’s only one night!
I can get through this. One night. Then things go back to normal. The last few months with Brian had been wonderful. He’d been attentive and loving and seemed to be delighted with her. They’d even discussed moving in together.
Just as she was contemplating sneaking away to another room to ride out the rest of the evening, a stout man in a golden-brown fur-lined mask slinked into the seat next to hers, scanning her with open interest. So not ready for this. She fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass and avoided eye contact, but she could feel his eyes on her. When she checked to see if he was indeed watching her, he licked his lips suggestively.
Ew!
He asked, “What’s your mask supposed to be? Is it a pussycat?”
She kept her body facing away from him. “It’s a dove.” Cheapest mask she could find. It did the job just fine. Some of the other masks in here were a hundred times more gorgeous and had to be worth three times her annual salary.
“Ah.” He leaned in to get a better look. “Well, can you guess mine?” He smiled as if this were a great game they were now playing.
She gave an uninterested shrug. “Um. A dog or something?”
He laughed with exaggerated fervor. “It’s a lion.” He reached under the bar and patted her on the knee, letting his hand linger. Her muscles stiffened and clenched. She hadn’t invited him into her space, and his touch repelled her.
He either didn’t notice her distress, or was inclined to ignore it. “You know. Like the king of the jungle.” His smile widened.
“O-Oh,” she stammered, and tried to swivel her chair away from him.
His grip on her knee tightened, halting her retreat. “Do you want to make me roar, Little Dove?”
Her mouth dropped open at the blatant proposal. “Not in the slightest,” she shoved his hand away.
He frowned, surprised by her swift and ardent rejection, but then his lips curled back up into a sly grin. He thought she was playing hard to get. Crap.
“Perhaps you’d rather make me purr like a kitten?”
“I’m here with someone,” she blurted.
He cocked his head. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been alone all night.”
She shivered, suddenly feeling unsafe. She glanced around the room. How many others watched her even now? Waiting to see how she’d handle this first suitor? Suddenly it was as if a sea of masks faced her way, dead black eyes trained on her.
It was a pretty safe bet that if you attended the masquerade, you were looking for a hookup. A woman sitting alone on a night like this was basically an open invitation. This shouldn’t freak her out so much. She just needed to let this guy down.
Even though Brian had encouraged her to find a partner tonight, she realized now she wasn’t interested in a one-night stand. Her oats didn’t need any sowing. Especially not with this self-proclaimed king of the jungle…whose hand returned to her leg!
A hint of revulsion slithered up her spine. She hadn’t invited the touch, and resented that he’d taken the liberty. Just as she was about to slap his hand away, a deep, baritone greeted her from behind. “Darling!” A warm palm landed on her shoulder. For a second, the sense of being surrounded filled her with panic, but then Mr. King of the Jungle yanked his hand away, and she was grateful for the reprieve.
“Sorry I’m late,” the stranger behind her continued as if they’d made plans to meet up here. Had someone misidentified her? She was about to tell him he’d confused her with someone else when he bent to kiss her cheek. She was too stunned to react. Then he whispered, “Just go with it.”
He sidled around to face her, inserting himself between her and Mr. King of the Jungle.
She gazed up at him, speechless for a whole other reason now. Even with that black strip of loose fabric masking his upper face, she could tell he was gorgeous. His jaw was well-defined with a touch of stubble that rode up his cheeks. His dark hair was tousled around his face and mask, framing an unusual set of green eyes that almost seemed to shine from within. His mouth spread in a small, rakish grin that drew her gaze to his full lips.
He winked at her.
She blinked several times, searching for her voice. Did he still think he knew her now that they were face to face? Or was he...could he be coming to her rescue? Just go with it, he’d said.
She cleared her throat. “I was starting to get worried…um…honey.” Note to self: learn to act.
The handsome stranger’s smile shifted to something that was almost soothing. “My apologies, darling. I got caught up at work.” He turned to Mr. King of the Jungle. “Would you mind scooting down so I can sit next to my girlfriend?”
Kasima grasped her mask, fidgeting with it though it didn’t need adjusting.
Clearly unhappy by the cock-block, Mr. King of the Jungle grumbled, “Yeah, sure.” Then he moved to the other end of the bar.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the dark stranger. “You’re a lifesaver.”
He nodded politely…and then claimed the newly vacated seat next to her.
Her stomach clenched. Had she just traded one problem for another?
The man signaled for a drink. Without even asking, the bartender poured him a full glass of top-shelf whiskey.
Obviously her stranger was a regular here.
She watched the thick muscles of his neck as he took a swig.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Realizing she’d been caught staring, she looked away.
She blinked. “Huh?”
“I overheard you tell that man you were here with someone. Is that true, or did you just say that hoping he’d go away?”
Unconsciously she looked across the room where Brian was now seated between the peacock and the owl. The man followed her gaze, his derisive snort evidence he’d caught on.
That mocking sound kicked her already bruised ego.
The stranger scanned her body from the fuck-me boots to her perfectly curled do. Not quite the same way Mr. King of the Jungle had. This was more of a curious assessment rather than an open ogle. When he shook his head again and quietly sipped his drink, she felt the sharp bite of...rejection?
Which was ridiculous. Surely she didn’t care what this man thought of her. She was, however, grateful toward him. It seemed he was polite enough to sit with her until Mr. King of the Jungle found another gazelle to stalk. And because of that, this was now the best place in the club to avoid attention.
She glanced around the room, trying and failing to keep her eyes away from Brian, who was just full of conspiratorial smiles for his neighbors. None of which were meant for her. Had he even looked her way once tonight? Dejected, she took a long pull from her glass.
“So what’s the story?” the stranger asked. “You like to watch your man get off with other women?”
She nearly choked on her drink. “I’m sorry, what?”
