Black Swan Mask Novels & Stories

Someone he won't recognize until it's too late. The wig came next, long, glossy black waves cascading past my shoulders, bangs swept to one side to partially veil the upper half of my face. It's not just a disguise, it's the distance. When I dance, when I let men look, I never show all of me. The mask is literal tonight, thin black lace that covers from nose to forehead, leaving only my mouth and chin exposed. It looks like high end fetish wear, but it's practical, hides bone structure, hides the hate that must be leaking from my eyes.

She frowned but didn’t interrupt him as he reached for the jacket he’d thrown aside earlier. He pulled out a small, velvet-covered box. He flipped it open, and for a second, the chaos around them faded. Inside was a stunning black masquerade mask—lace-like, delicately detailed, with a dusting of glitter that shimmered faintly in the light. The edges curled with soft filigree, elegant and dramatic, and the sheer black ribbons fell loose like silk. “It’s stunning,” she whispered, her voice caught in her throat. “When did you get this?”

"Do you take this woman to be your wife, to stand by her through thick and thin?" "I do," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. The guests whispered in awe. Howard Larson, the Larson family's big shot, was so in love with me that he would not let a bad cold stop our big day. He did not want to disappoint me. "Wait a second." The man's eyes darted around, and his forehead was dotted with sweat. I smiled and asked, "Howard, you're looking a bit pale. Too busy with the wedding to remember your medicine?"

Did he actually believe me, or was this just another setup? "The theme this month is the Black swan. You will need a gown and a mask to enter. When you enter, say, you are a guest of Eugene Gilbert. When they let you through, you must go up to the bartender and ask for a moonshine mule. When he asks which quality, you say top-shelf." he paused, looking at the door and then back at me.

(Derek's POV) The silver-enhanced ceremonial mask felt heavy in my hands, its weight symbolic of the burden I now carried. I traced my fingers over the gold-trimmed edges, feeling each intricate pack symbol etched into its surface. This mask represented more than just my alter ego—it was freedom from the constraints of being Derek Silverstone, heir to a corrupted pack legacy. Tonight, I would become justice itself. I slipped the mask over my face, feeling the familiar sensation of wolfsbane-infused material against my skin. The ancient symbols I had painted on my neck burned slightly, activating the power-masking enchantment that would prevent other wolves from sensing my true alpha presence

‎He had a high nose bridge, and a small pointed nose. ‎On his left brow rested a small scar that separated his thick brow into identical halves. ‎He was wearing a black face mask, engraved with a painting of a skull. ‎I couldn't see his lower face clearly but I could easily tell he was charming beyond words. ‎Even terrified as I was, I couldn't deny the fact that he was angelic. ‎His attire consisted of a sleeveless black garment, partially revealing his broad chest and large arms, emphasizing his ripped physique. On his left shoulder rested the number “50”

I said stressing the word admirer then looking at Mark, "secondly it was just flowers from MAGNIFICO, and I thought you got them too." "I didn't get any." Oh, Blackwood you are going to be on the stand soon. "This time it is not flowers, it is something more expensive." We both looked at Mark confused and he went inside and brought the package out for me to see. I opened it and saw a white gold mask with swirl designs. It looked nice but I don't think I am wearing a dress that matches the mask. My magenta dress with the black ombre design was definitely not the perfect match for this beautiful mask.

I chose a new outfit: a flower-embroidered lace bodice that clung onto my skin, and a micro-mini skirt made of layers of sheer, floaty chiffon. I made sure the tube top cover up my chest properly from the inside, and then I secured the white masquerade mask behind my head. Staring at my own reflection in the mirror, I felt different. In this mask, I wasn't Aurelia, I am Crystal. I waltzed into the private booth, and the scent of expensive bourbon and cedar hit me instantly. Lucien was already there. He sat perfectly still, draped in a charcoal suit that fit him like armor.

Silver~ He was wearing a black and red crochet bunny mask with red horns and long flat ears. His black turtle neck shirt was tucked in black pants and matte black boots. And a black long coat hung lazily on his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was slightly altered by the mask, but it unmistakably sounded like Daniel’s. Or could I be overthinking it? “And you are…?” Adrian asked, lifting a brow, clearly displeased with the interruption. The masked young man inclined his head slightly.

I say, covering my face with my hand as I try to make my way out of the big crowd. However, the next thing I know, a confused man slams on me. “Ouch!” I scream as I almost collapse to the white sand, but the same man catches me before I fall. Forget saying thank you; who wears black in the whole of Mombasa City, and worst of all, a complete black sweat suit with a floral trench court? Forget the cap that is covering his upper face, and also forget the double dark shades. Let’s talk about the black mask that covers everything from his chin to his nose. In short, all his facial features are secured. No detail of his face can be seen. This is… I jerk myself away from him. “Be careful. Miss!”