Crimson Mask Novels & Stories

I twisted my hair into a loose updo, dabbed red lipstick on my lips, and waited by the window, watching snowflakes dust the street. His SUV pulled up right on time, engine purring like a predator. Vic leaned over to open the door, eyes raking me from head to toe. “Damn, Selena. You'll have them popping cocks early.” He said, handing me a mask, it was a black lace, Venetian style, covering half my face. “The theme is masquerade. Keep it anonymous.” I tied it on, the anonymity sending an illicit thrill up my spine.

We talked and laughed, sharing stories and getting to know each other better. Just as we were in the middle of our conversation, the door creaked open, and a tall, dark-skinned man walked in. My head instinctively turned to greet him. Just as I raised my face to greet him, I felt a jolt of recognition run through me. It was the same guy from the masked party! I couldn't believe it; I had unmasked him in the washroom while we were kissing. I didn't know I'd remember his face ever again.

Christine said. Azrael felt shivers running down her spine. But one question was still lingering in her mind despite of not taking in every realizations she just discovered. “Where-- how did you get this?” she asked. Christine looked at the Luna as if she asked the wrong question. Or as if the answer was already obvious. It was clear to see that she used her spells but the witch knew she had to explain. “The moment the Crimson Crest pack was attacked, I immediately thought of the Crescent Bow…” Christine started and mumbled a spell that made her look normal without the tiara and the princess dress.

Mom sighed. “That was not a pleasant sight to see,” she said. I nod my head. “It wasn’t at all,” I said. “So, what happened?” she asked. “Well, I left the house trying to look for help, but everyone was dead. I saw some warriors with a man wearing a mask. I begged them to help my parents, but the man wanted me, so I ran, and while running, I fell off a cliff. An alpha took me in when he found me, and he named me Red because of my hair, and I was too scared to utter any words,” I said. They sighed, and I could tell they were sad.

He picked a red mask. “The colour is–” “This is for you,” Sarang interrupted. “You always wear dull colours. Red is considered a lucky and rich colour.” Sarang slipped the mask onto Lucian’s face. It was shaped like an owl, adorned with rhinestones and feathers, cool against Lucian’s skin. Lucian studied his reflection, hands clasped behind him, giving a nod of approval. “Thank you.” Lucian said. Sarang grinned in victory. Lucian chose a blue mask and gently fastened it on Sarang’s face, his fingers caressed his cheeks as his dark eyes lingered.

The midnight skyline of Port Apex was obscured by a thick fog, turning the massive steel cranes into looming phantoms over the black water. Inside the glass-walled command center of Vance Enterprise, the air was sharp with cold air conditioning. Massive wall monitors glowed with real-time global trade routes, but three major digital corridors stretching from Singapore to Rotterdam had suddenly flashed from deep blue to a stark, ominous crimson. Victoria stood before the central map, a glass of untouched scotch resting in her palm. The amber liquid caught the harsh red glare of the screens. She had discarded her blazer, wearing a sleeveless midnight-black tailored vest over her crisp blouse.

* *The next day* Crimson sat in front of the mirror staring at herself, the make up was done and she was dressed on her Royal attire with a crown on her neatly made hair. A tear dropped from her eyes, she quickly wiped it up. "Our problems sometimes makes us stronger, Moon goddess, Please make me Strong, I'm not doing this because I want to but for the sake of my throne, Please show me a way." Crimson exclaimed. Alpha Zaid joined her, she quickly wiped her tears. "You look really beautiful my Luna, look, I got you a gift." Alpha Zaid said and showed her a diamond necklace. "It's beautiful, but I think that's much."

“Yes, Alpha.” He sauntered off toward the bathroom for a quick change while she seized the opportunity to gather the masks. The occasion was a masquerade-themed extravaganza, Raymond’s chosen concept. Her fingers danced across the masks’ surfaces, each telling a tale of elegance and charisma. The first mask, resplendent in gold and adorned with rubies, caught her eye. A fleeting glance at her attire reassured her that it harmonized seamlessly with her crimson dress. Next in line was a sleek black mask, its glossy velvet covering exuding an air of mystery.

“I was already doing it, you did not have to yank it off me!” Lev says nothing. His rough hand pushes the heavy door open wide. Then he shoves me hard inside. I stumble. Yelp. The box is small. Dark red walls. Two soft chairs. A low table with a bottle and one glass. Half full. Blood red liquid. And a man. His back is to me. Shirtless. Skin pale like snow. Tattoos cover every inch. Black ink. Wolves. Knives. Skulls. Snowflakes. In the middle, huge, the Morozov crest. The same wolf.

His world had shrunk to the four walls of her domain and the sound of her voice. The night of the masquerade arrived. Julianna handed him his costume: a tailored black tuxedo. It felt alien against his skin, a costume in every sense. She herself was a vision of terrifying beauty. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the colour of fresh blood, and a silver mask that covered the upper half of her face, shaped like the elegant, spreading wings of a raven. She didn’t need a mask to be intimidating, but it made her look like a goddess of vengeance.