Bakugan Masquerade Novels & Stories

A daring slit shows all the way up to my hip, The gown is strapless, designed to hug my figure snugly and enhance my natural curves. My face has a matching silver mask, equally radiant in its shimmering glory. It's designed, with delicate patterns etched into the metallic surface. Tiny silver and transparent beads are scattered across the mask, glinting like stars against the velvet night. A few feathers are elegantly arranged along the edges, adding a beautiful touch to the ensemble. Michal then continues “Babe, I wanted to talk to you before we head to the ball. Just a few rules for your safety is all.”

Barbara paused at the threshold to the ballroom, her breath fogging the air before her, her mind asking her for the millionth time over if she could do this. This final task that was finally going to set her free. She adjusted the plain satin mask she had on her face. Her piece for the night was white, unadorned... a mere ghost among the colorful peacocks littered across the room in their creative, probably ridiculously expensive face blockers and even more expensive clothing ensembles. It was a masquerade ball, remember? The theme was one Barbie couldn’t be more grateful for. To suit the task of the night, Barbie had decided that her disguise would be plain-Jane Barbie. Her gown was a dull

CHAPTER ELEVEN “Amara, you forgot about this.” Amethyst handed me a mask. The mask would only cover half of the wearer’s face, including the forehead and the area surrounding the eyes. It was a masquerade mask. It was shaped like those butterfly wings. It was crafted from silver, with crystal beads designed at its corners and a black sun with four rays at the upper center. It has a lace at both ends. “Who owns it?” Amethyst asked curiously.

I walk through the hallways with my hands tucked deep in the pockets of my hoodie. The other students shove past me, throwing me disgusted looks and nasty glares. It used to make me want to crawl in a hole and die, but now, I hardly notice it at all. All of the students have special uniforms that are backless to accommodate their wings—well, all except me. If those idiots knew how to put their wings away then they’d be able to have a more diverse wardrobe.

I'd dated models, actresses, women who made careers out of being beautiful, but none of them had stayed in my head like this masked stranger I'd met for less than five minutes. The door to VIP Room Three stood open, I stepped inside, but she wasn't there yet. I sat on the leather sofa, adjusting my cufflinks out of nervous habit. The door opened. Nyx stepped inside wearing black lace this time. The lingerie left even less to imagination than the crimson from last week. Her red hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, and that jeweled mask caught the amber light. I couldn’t take my eyes off how stunning she looked in that lace.

"Just briefly. And I need to find a mask to hide the bruise on my face." In the dressing room, she selected a more elaborate mask than before, one that would better conceal her bruise while still leaving her mouth and jawline exposed. The emerald and gold creation fastened securely, covering from her hairline to the middle of her cheekbones. It wouldn't hide everything, but combined with the dim lighting, it might be enough to avoid immediate questions.

"Maybe not. The decision is up to you. I just did it for your information but I hope we're inside the hideout. Outside let's go back to the past and our hidden Identity, is it clear?" "Yes!" the women answered at once. Everyone had fun. "Guys, do you agree that we should remove our masks at the same time?" Astra asked happily. Dindo is just waiting to see what happens next. He wanted to approach and hug Amore but he felt embarrassed. He was contented to just watch his friend first. He was also happy because she was safe. It’s his fault why she almost perished at Regor’s hands. "Are you all ready? One, two, three-," Astra said then they removed the masks at the same time.

Marcello’s eyes widen, his body instinctively recoiling despite the restraints. “Let’s make sure you never forget who owns you,” I sneer, pressing the searing tip of the poker against his chest. He thrashes violently, but a guard pins him in place as I carve the De Luca crest into his skin. The hiss of flesh burning beneath the metal mingles with his guttural cries, the acrid stench nearly overwhelming. When I pull the poker away, the symbol is clear, raw, and blistered. “Now there’s no doubt about who you belong to,” I say, leaning down to meet his tear-streaked gaze.

One of the girls laughed, “You will see, everyone stays away from us.” They could still be recognized though. She saw Bonbon watching her. “We sometimes wear masks,” she said, looking at Ilyria. “Madame Skia likes it when we do that. She says it adds to our allure.” “Oh, I still have the Goddess mask from the party last month!” said Miasma, “Good idea, Bonbon. Kitten, I have the perfect mask for you.” Bonbon cast Ilyria a glance that said she meant to talk further with her. Then they set off for the dressing quarters to find masks for their excursion.

He smiles and replies, “Just call me Greg, and please do keep it a secret. ” He nods and says to him, “I understand, it seems you are a secret yourself. Why all the secrecy? You have not committed any crimes have you?” He doesn’t speak rather he nods and walks towards the room, this time, he doesn’t stop him. After the long sentences, he allows him to enter the room, he walks toward her slowly and he looks down at the sleeping beauty. He is about to remove his mask but he sees her stir in her sleep so he stops and walks closer to her. She opens her eyes and stares right at him, he looks down at her and says to her,