Blue Masquerade Mask Novels & Stories

“Well, it’s the only one I found in the garment bag you handed me, so...” “But… But…I ordered a big, frilly light-blue dress to match me, along with one of those masquerade ball masks to hide your face.” “Oh, wait! It did come with a mask.” I lifted the yellow helmet with black shaded eyes and a silver mouth guard, then pulled it over my head. My vision went limited, but I could clearly see Brick out of the eye holes as he shook his head. “Holy… No. No, you’re not wearing that. You look like a ten-year-old boy.”

I sighed, and he led the way to the VIP section. “Be careful,” he gave me a nod, and I entered the booth. To my surprise, the man in there had a mask on as well. “Here,” he handed me a shawl, to cover myself, as I took a seat. “Have a drink," he offered, passing me a glass. “Not happening,” I eyed the glass suspiciously, who knows what he put inside the drink. “Hear me out, I'm not going to do anything to you,on my honor, I just want us to talk,”

Nothing is private anymore. In front of her was the man who asked for a hand in marriage to Duke Raziel. He had his usual blue tailored suit that hung his body perfectly. He had his mask on his face that covered his nose and lips, but his infamous red eyes were staring at her, his black hair shining as the sun glistened from the window. She couldn’t read his face as he remained stoic. He was always wearing a mask to cover part of his face for unknown reasons. They said it was because he hides his ugly scar somewhere on the cheek...that he was a beast and the strongest...Well...that’s what the rumors say about him.

Just stay with me and I would be alright. "Welcome back Master Yulian! And to your lovely guest!" welcomed the attendant on the big oak door. I couldn't make out the guy's features; his face was covered with a rather colorful Arlechinno—depicting a very happy clown. It matches his buoyant personality; he was almost bouncing on his feet at our sight. "Here is your mask, as you requested." He handed Yulian a black Pantalone. "I made it myself!" he exclaimed clapping both hands together. Yulian reached for the birdlike mask, "Thank you, Marcel, are they all here?" he asked wearing the ornament over his head.

Samantha and I both find dresses, shoes and accessories, including our masks. I buy an all black mask with rhinestones, beads and feathers. Samantha buys a white mask with lace and pearls. It's a black and white masquerade ball and we are going to look awesome. By the time we are finished it is dark outside and we figure it's time to get the guys. We don't even need to mink link them, we already know where they will be.

"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?"

The invitation was clear: masks were mandatory, identities optional. My gown was a masterpiece of sin — deep midnight blue silk with a corseted bodice that pushed my breasts up dramatically and a flowing skirt with a high slit. A matching sapphire mask covered the upper half of my face, leaving my lips and jaw exposed. Underneath, as always, I wore nothing. Alessandro, Matteo, and Luca looked devastating in tailored black tuxedos and matching dark masks that only accentuated their sharp jawlines and piercing hazel eyes.

It was elegant and terrifying. We approached a woman seated behind a sleek glass desk. Her face was expressionless. When she saw Mr. Everhart, she stood quickly and bowed, deeply, reverently, before sliding something across the counter: a mask. Without hesitation, Mr. Everhart took it. The mask was white porcelain, etched with subtle obsidian lines. He placed it over his face and pinned a silver tag to his lapel. The name engraved on it was, Alpha. He turned to me “You won’t be needing this yet,” he said quietly, though his eyes behind the mask were unreadable.

My chest tightens with a recognition I can’t place. I reach the door and pause. Through the gap, I see a bed angled toward the window, blinds drawn but leaking thin bands of early light. Machines stand sentinel, their screens alive with quiet green waves. And on the bed...... It’s me. I stop breathing. The figure lies perfectly still, and hair spread like a dark fan across the pillow. A pale blanket rises and falls with each slow inhale. The face, my face, holds the colour of morning milk. Eyes closed, Lips parted just enough to catch the soft hiss of oxygen.

I turned toward the full-length mirror, inhaling deeply. A smirk tugged at my lips. ‘Allison Blade, the mafia wife in black.’ A vision of power, of a woman who belonged to the mafia king himself. I reached for the mask, securing it into place, the final touch of dominance. Lena stepped back, nodding in approval. “With a few final touches, it’ll be ready for delivery by Saturday morning.” I met her gaze through the mirror. “That’s perfect.”