Glitter Force Rascal Without Mask Novels & Stories

Rue’s POV I fastened a thin silk ribbon of mask around my head, adjusting it until it fit perfectly over my face. The mirror reflected a woman I barely recognized—her hair pinned up in soft curls, her dress a pale silver that shimmered when I moved, her lips tinted coral. For once, I looked like someone else. “Perfect!” Bella clapped her hands. “You look mysterious and dangerously hot. The kind of woman men would kill to unmask.” I smiled faintly, lifting my brow. “And you?”

**"Specimen corrupted. Analysis required." One of them peels back a fragment, revealing a golden core. The static in me *screams*. Ravel doesn't hesitate. She lunges, her shovel cracking the Architect's mask. It shatters, revealing a face that's both alien and familiar-a mosaic of human features stitched together. **"Intruders,"** it hisses, its voice layered with static. **"Eliminate."** --- **The Escape** The fight is chaos. Ravel swings her shovel like a scythe, shattering masks and severing tendrils. I grab a fragment of the Bastion's heart, its light searing my palms. The static surges, merging with the fragment, and the corridor erupts in golden light.

Not sure what to do with my hands or feet for that matter, I found myself shifting from foot to foot and wringing my hands. “Look,” she said, putting on her mask. It was white and sapphire blue to match her dress. The mask covered her mid-cheek and up. Only the tip of her pixie nose stuck out from beneath the mask. For the first time, I noticed that she had glittery lip gloss on to match the glitter on her mask. I applauded, not knowing what else to do, and she made a mock bow. “I paid for you to get a tux, I’ll give you the number.” With that said, she turned and swept from the room like an unstoppable force of nature.

“I’m done running.” The masked one stepped forward, and the room seemed to grow darker. The crimson thread in Racheal’s chest flared hot, urging her to strike. The golden one pulsed steadily, holding her in place. He stopped just inside the door, his head cocking slightly as if examining prey. “Interesting. You’ve grown stronger. But strength only makes the fall more satisfying.” Lucas lunged first, a blur of shadow and claws. The masked one moved like smoke, sidestepping effortlessly, but Lucas’s strike tore a gash through the doorframe where the hunter had stood. Damon followed, his golden light blazing, forcing the intruder to retreat a step.

she told me, very matter-of-factly. The other issue I kept bringing up was about the mask. To her credit, she had managed to find one that was relatively lightweight but fit snuggly and did a pretty good job of rendering me unrecognizable. It was a Guy Fawkes mask, like the one from the movie 'V for Vendetta', all white with a big smile, curly mustache and thin goatee. My concern was less about them recognizing me through the mask and more about how to explain why I was wearing a mask at all. I hadn't spent a lot of time around male strippers, but I was pretty sure that they didn't normally wear masks. To address this, Rachel had come up with a pretty elaborate backstory.

Elowen POV. The leather sofa in VIP Room Three still held the warmth of the last client. I could feel it through the thin crimson silk barely covering my body as I adjusted my position, making sure every angle was perfect. The jeweled mask sat secure against my face, catching the low amber light, hiding everything that mattered while showing everything that didn't. My red hair fell in waves over my bare shoulders. No brown wig or oversized cardigan swallowing my curves tonight. Tonight, I was Nyx, and Nyx didn't hide.

Something about the spontaneity felt good—like I was reclaiming a part of myself I’d buried under meetings and perfectionism. Tonight, there were no pitches. No edits. No expectations. Just me, Rachel, a dance floor, and whatever kind of trouble we could get into wearing masks. ⸻ Masquerade looked like a fever dream. Velvet ropes. Gold-plated trim. A bouncer who looked carved from granite stood guard. Except us. “Hey, Mikey,” Rachel purred, lifting her fox mask just enough to flash a smile. “Rachel,” he grinned. “You’re late.”

Masked Moonlight Addiction PART I The Masked Moon Ball pulsed like a living heartbeat. Crystal chandeliers dripped silver light over the grand hall of Lunar Academy, and every student, professor, and staff member wore the same enchanted silver masks. No faces could be seen, no names told. Only scent, touch, and instinct. Aria adjusted her mask, the cool metal pressing against her cheeks. Her simple black gown clung to her curves, and for the first time in years, she hadn’t taken her suppressants. “Just one night of not hiding,” she whispered to herself, heart racing.

I mutter, storming into the bathroom and tossing them into the trash like the shame they represent. I flip the light on and stare at the reflection in the mirror. What greets me is both tragic and hilarious: glitter clings to every inch of my skin, like a crime scene dusted for fingerprints. The painted mask Astrid had drawn over my eyes is smeared, leaving streaks of blue and silver across my cheeks. My hair’s a tangled mess of curls, but not in a sexy, I-just-had-the-night-of-my-life way more like I lost a fight with a confetti cannon.

He didn't say anything about the club and I didn't ask. The night of the ball came like a thunderstorm, loud, electric and glamorous. Rosa chose my dress, a black silk sheath encrusted with tiny crystals that resembled stars. It transformed me into someone I was not, hugging all of my curves and fitting me like skin. My silver and gold mask, looked dangerous cold and unreadable it was shaped like a wolfs gaze and had sharp edges around the eyes. It was perfect and beautiful. There was no sign that this was once a mansion. A marble ballroom surrounded by mirrors was illuminated by chandeliers. An eerie tune was played by a live string quartet.