A Mask Of My Own Face Novels & Stories

The one person who drives me to the brink of obsession. I don’t just want him. I want to own him. I want to shatter the mask he wears for his family, to rip away the carefully constructed facade and see the man underneath—the man who kissed me, who wanted me before he even knew my name. I’ll take him, and I’ll make the world see it. I’ll make him mine in a way no one can deny. Not his family, not my father, not even Lorenzo himself. He can fight it. He can call me crazy, deranged, unhinged. Maybe I am. But that doesn’t change the truth. He’s mine.

Like she was empty of tears. "The mask was a gift from my mom, someone I thought I lost long before I lost my dad, I survived with an injury on my face that the doctors said would scar me. Everyone hated me after that, for taking away their alpha, for being weak and ugly." Lennox's hand came around her and held her close as she exposed more of herself. "The mask was a way of hiding my face so I don't disgust people but more than that it was what helped me stay close to my parents even when the wound was gone, I couldn't be without the mask."

I muttered, reaching for another crystal. As I worked, I couldn’t help but imagine the finished product in my head. The mask would just cover the upper half of my face, but the crystals would catch the light in such a way that it would be difficult for anyone looking from afar to make out my identity. Perfect for a masquerade. Perfect to feel like someone else, just for a little while. Maybe I could even convince myself that I wasn’t Audrey the human, but rather a werewolf just like everyone else.

He gazes into my eyes as he caresses my cheek. He isn’t saying anything, and it’s only our breaths I can hear. I run my finger over his mask and wonder what he’s like without it. Then I realize we aren’t so different. He covers his face with a mask so people won’t see the real him, and I’ve been wearing an invisible one myself since I decided to close off my heart. But slowly, my mask is vanishing because, for the first time, I feel something in my heart that is special again.

It was the self she had been running from, the self she had buried under masks and titles and roles, the self that had no name because it had never needed one. "You are free to go," the figure said, and its voice was not the voice of the throne anymore. It was her own voice, unfiltered, unafraid, unperformed. "But remember. The mask is a tool, not a home. You may wear it when you need it. But you must learn to take it off. And you must learn to show your face in the light."

It didn't say "develop a possessive streak and murder anyone who breathes near her." But the moment that glass dagger had pointed toward her door, I had moved. Not for the money. Not for the client. For her. I touched my mask. Porcelain. Cold. The only face I had worn in ten years. Beneath it, my real face was scarred. Ruined. The price of surviving the pits. I had told myself long ago that no one would ever see what was underneath. That I was a weapon, not a man. That weapons didn't need faces.

Naomi stepped back and studied her work. “I’m done,” she said, holding out a blue mask. I frowned. “What’s this for?” “You’re the flavour of the evening,” she explained. “Masks make buyers curious. Mystery sells.” I hesitated before slipping it on. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognised myself. The woman staring back looked polished, beautiful even, but distant. The blue mask hid half my face, turning me into someone else. “Good luck,” Naomi said softly. “Tonight, your name is Blue.”

“I will choose you over him, again and again.” He manage a small smile. “You’re the only one I have shown my face to since I got burned. At first wearing a mask is burdensome.I hated the pity I got from some people more than their disgust. I hated the fact that it makes me too conscious of myself … but now, it’s part of me. My identity is not complete without the mask.” “Can I touch the scar?” I have to ask him because I don’t want it to look like I’m doing too much.