Blissful Masquerade Novels & Stories

Elma The masquerade was the perfect excuse. A celebration. A harmless post-summit affair. One I had no reason to decline. Not if I wanted to keep suspicions off my back. I’d been at the summit. A guest of honor, they called me. Skipping a formal pack event now? That would’ve raised more questions than my presence already had. So I came. Dressed like the version of myself they expected. Elegant. Quiet. Soft. A diplomat’s niece, with good posture and a forgettable smile. My mask was silver lace and satin…light enough to breathe, pretty enough to distract.

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.”

Melisa couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “have you always been daft or you became daft after you got married to my husband?” “Husband?” Now Martina was more confused than ever, “what are you even talking about?” “She doesn’t know” Hardin gave a mocking laugh, “she has always been a delusional bitch, right?” He shoved Martina off with his index finger, “we have been married for ten whole years, Martina” Melisa told her with an evil smirk hovering over her face, “so technically you are the third wheel here” Martina felt like the universe had finally succeeded in mocking her.

" When I asked, he smirked. He looked like someone who could kill her in the next second. TWO YEARS LATER I smiled as I slowly stepped out of the car; there were a slew of directors waiting for her, including the CEOs of small businesses who all wanted to collaborate with me. The powerful Miss Eleanor, the image I made for myself solely to exact revenge on him. Only a few people have seen my face, but all have felt my wealth. Only a few people will see my face before I exact my revenge. I was wearing a mask on my face and an umbrella over my head. At the time, I was the wealthiest person in town, and only a few people had seen my face.

"C'mon, princess. Your client's here and he's already got a bottle of Cristal on ice waiting." I shot him a deadly glare and drew in a steadying breath before putting on the glittery masquerade-style mask that covered the upper half of my face. At least my identity would be concealed from whatever sleazebag Gio had lined up. “And smileeee, I didn't hire a statue for a stripper so don't make me think otherwise” he added, I scoffed and shot him my signature Halloween smile. The nerves he has to try to patronize me seconds after manhandling me.

She took them off and started polishing and removing the blood. Her watch lit up, brightening the room she was in. She looked over with a blank face and saw the notification for her new mission. Kill the mafia boss and she's free to leave the life of an assassin. She's supposed to be happy, but after being through so much, she just can't provide proper emotions. "One last kill..." What she didn't know was this would be a rollercoaster to hell. SOFT music began as agent Blood Moon got ready for the night she will commit her last kill. Putting on an eye-catching leather cherry red dress that hugs her figure and black heels that makes her four inches taller. A masquerade ball, she remembers. A

I gestured vaguely at my face and my bruised arms. He only smiled at my complaints. "It’s a masquerade, babe," he said, crossing the room in two strides and dropping a white garment bag onto the bed. Curiosity prickled through the ache. I unzipped the bag, and inside lay a gown. It was a soft wash of midnight blue silk that shimmered when the light touched it. The bodice was structured but delicate, tiny beads stitched along the sweetheart neckline like stars scattered across a night sky. The skirt flared gently, enough to move with me without weighing me down. And a matching mask, edged with silver filigree, hung from one of the satin straps.

[PRESENT] The Plaza had been transformed into a dreamscape of glittering decadence. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light over swirling couples, their masks—delicate filigree, gilded feathers, intricate lace—hiding more than just their faces. The air hummed with the low thrum of strings, the clink of champagne flutes, the murmured exchanges of power disguised as pleasantries.

Why can't I move? The scent of moonflowers grew stronger, making his head spin. His skin felt like it was burning, too tight and too sensitive. Every breath brought more of the flower's essence into his lungs, and he could feel his carefully maintained control slipping away piece by piece. Just as Ivan took another step forward, his eyes locked on Jason with dangerous intensity, the main doors to the hall burst open. A group of young women dressed in ceremonial blacks and silvers filed in, their entrance causing a ripple of murmurs throughout the room. Jason had never been so grateful for a distraction in his entire life.