Blakely The ballroom shone in an array of colors, each one a blur as we entered at the top of a grand staircase overlooking the crowd of gawking patrons. Orbs of faelight hung suspended in the air, swirling around the room without rhyme or reason. One-by-one our names were called, followed by the titles belonging to each deity. I couldn’t help but notice as they approached the stairs, they were handed their own individual envelopes, sealed with an oval of crimson wax, along with a mask. I’d thought it was odd that Casimir and Drefan would host a masquerade, but prohibit the guests from bringing their own masks. As it became our turn, I finally saw the method behind their madness. Not only did the masks they handed us match our attire, but each one was embellished with details that seemed tailored to who we were. Azrael’s had wolves leaping along the silver material, howling at a moon just out of sight. Draco’s was similar, though his wolves were larger, interwoven with wisps of da

Azrael Turning away from Blakely, allowing her to walk into the mouth of the beast with only Draco as back-up, was harder than the year I spent in that dark, dank cavern being tortured half to death. And being tortured royally sucked. Every muscle in my body was coiled, tense beneath the suffocating silken shirt I had on. The beast prowling beneath my flesh stretched, it’s hackles raising as it fought the urge to protect our mate. Despite what I wanted—what we both wanted—we had a task to complete. Swiping a goblet off a passing tray, carried by a fire sprite, I brought it to my lips and winked at the tiny, flaming being. It glided away, releasing a giggle that sounded like crackling embers. Downing the contents in one gulp, I skimmed my tongue across my teeth and peered down at the paper fisted in my hand. It read: “God of Wolves, there is something you must do. An item to recover, a stone so bright and blue. Be swift, be careful, tread light on your feet. For your target i

Blakely Oh Gods. All I could think about as I raced across the ballroom, towards the glittering doors that were my only salvation, was the fact that I’d intentionally slammed into a Goddess. Not just any Goddess, though. No, the fucking Goddess of arachnids. Did I mention I hated spiders? Fuck. A shudder rolled down my spine at the sound of Aranea’s voice, her shrill screech as she scrambled back from the clumsy mortal that dared plow her down. “You wretched girl! Do not run away from me!” Like I was going to stay and chat? Hah, no thanks! My hands were so clammy that they slipped off the curved handle as I yanked the door open. I couldn’t wait for Draco to catch up, not when I had an angry Goddess wailing at my back. I clenched the small object I’d fished from her glass in my hand, not daring to open it until the castle doors clicked shut behind me. Releasing a sigh that was short-lived when I realized I was utterly alone, I unfurled my fingers and frowned. It

Orion “Let me in, Orion. Let. Me. In.” Upon hearing the voice in the flames whisper my name. Upon seeing it control the shadows, willing them to coalesce into a human form, I did the only reasonable thing. I ran. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I’d be lying if I said it’s voice didn’t strike fear into my very heart. Years and years the truth of what I’d done to my brother devoured me, tormented me just as this terrible voice had. The halls of the tunnel twisted and turned, branching off into thick darkness before plunging me back into the crackling light of the fiery torches. All the while I could hear that voice whispering, as though it were hovering over my shoulder. It sang my name. Sang the names of my brothers, and even poison herself. Minutes ticked by as I ran. I slowed, scanning the arched tunnel for any sign of writhing shadows. Choosing a patch of crumbling wall, I pushed my magic into the brick, willing it to fall beneath my hand. The castle seemed to reach back in r

Blakely I should’ve spun on my heel and told Orion to dance with himself, but it was hard to formulate the words when faced with the soft tilt of his lips, and the almost vulnerable light shimmering in his pale eyes. Beauty like that would make any woman weak, I told myself. I reached for his hand, willing myself not to tremble. Instead of acid, nervousness seized my throat. The heat of his fingers against my lower back penetrated my gown. I could feel every movement. Every twitch. His heart, level with my face, thundered heavily. As though the castle could anticipate our needs, music began to trickle from all corners of the ballroom. There was the smooth cadence of a violin, followed by the deep croon of a cello. Each note was overlayed with the unique melody of instruments found only in the godly realm, creating a sort of music that was both mortal and immortal combined. It felt fitting, given the circumstances. I couldn’t catch my breath. Not when Orion gently spun me on my f