Royal Mask Novels & Stories

The mask did not cover our full face but it covers half. The ladies were non-stop giggling and chatting while everyone was obviously thrilled about how thing will turn out. Because under the dim light, you cannot identify your partner. You have to dance with the one you met on the floor. Some of the maids came toward their table and open the golden and silver mask. Which was for the royal family. Rean took the mask for himself and Anna. He helped his wife wear it. Jayden smirk at Rean and Michale . "Let's see how well you handle your wife dancing with other men. Rose just scoffed. But Anna looked at Rean with worry.

He sighed and brushed his hand in his hair the other hand resting in his pocket and he stopped smiling and said in a deep voice, “Seeing you now is risking my life, you know my first name and for the first time I am not afraid to take such a step.” He turned to me and this time he looked straight in my eyes and he continues, “I will try and come back here to see you. But if I can’t and you can recognize me without my mask when we meet once again, then I won’t hesitate to be yours forever. This I promise.”

Their painted eyes seemed to watch the masked figures below as if passing judgment on the guests who danced and whispered beneath their gaze. The floor was polished marble, so perfectly reflective that it captured the gleam of candlelight and the movement of those who graced it. At its center lay the royal crest—a silver wolf entwined with crescent moons—emblazoned into the stone, an unyielding reminder of the kingdom’s strength. The guests were the pinnacle of nobility, each one a vision of status and authority. Royal families from different packs in rich jewel-toned silks moved with practiced grace, their gilded masks obscuring their expressions but not their intentions.

The masquerade ball was thrown by my father, the great king Eric, on the occasion of my eighteenth birthday with such great pomp and lavishness that royals from the entire Windsor kingdom had been invited. “Talia my love, why don’t you join the mob.” said father merrily, removing his mask and taking a sip of wine from his goblet. “Talia my dear, when the masquerade concludes, I would request you to enter my chamber, I have a present waiting for you there,” she announced, in her typical silky voice, just as I got up to wear a mask and dance. I nodded at her curtly and departed. The masked mob was dancing to a slow and breezy tune played by royal and highly notable musicians brought from Rome,

He reached back into the bag and pulled out a mask. It was a Venetian half-mask, painted gold with sharp features. "You aren't just dressing me for a party," I realized, looking up at him. "You're dressing me for battle." "You are the Queen on the board, Elena," Nico said softly. He tossed the mask onto the bed next to the dress. "The Queen is the most powerful piece but she's also the one everyone tries to take down to get to the King." He walked around the bed, standing in front of me. He reached out and unzipped my jeans with quick, decisive movements.

And that too so easily. "I don't want to regret anything in my life, Alex" She pecked his lips. "Let's get ready fast or else, my princess will kill us," Alex mumbled and took a new parcel to Clara. She was so happy to see a long red gown and he had the same colour tie to match his suit. His efforts always made her special. Both got ready and came down so quickly. Rachel wore a red and black gown which was sweeping the floor and she looked like a Disney princess in real life. She jumped and hugged her mom and dad with a huge grin.

“Sorry, but I already picked a mask for you if you don't mind.” “Oh,” I murmur. “Sure,” I tell her, not wanting to insult one of the most influential queens of our time. “Here,” she says. Her hand stretched out to place the mask I assumed was her own when I saw it in her hand and same in mine. My eyes widen as I look at the detail of the mask, it's clearly a royal mask. “This is a royal mask?” I say, but it comes out as more of a question than an affirmation.

I threw on a leather jacket to block out as much of the outside world as possible, but I wasn't stupid. If I went out looking like myself, the paparazzi or my father’s guards would have me back in the palace before I could even order a drink. I grabbed a small, flesh-colored patch from my side drawer—a high-grade tech mask. I slapped it over my neck, feeling the cool tingle as it fused with my skin, completely locking in my royal scent. To anyone else tonight, I’d just be an ordinary, unbonded Alpha looking for a good time. The Cupid Den was a sweaty, dark hole on the lower levels of the city, exactly the kind of place a prince shouldn't be seen in.

Behind my own mask, I feel strangely free, as if that small piece of red lace grants me temporary invisibility, a chance to be just another servant, indistinguishable amidst the crowd of masked nobles. The guests are evidently nobles, easily identifiable by their luxurious attire and the jewels glimmering in the gentle light. The fine fabrics, rich with intricate details, the silks, brocades, and lace, each piece chosen with utmost care, speak of a life of opulence and privilege. The masks covering their faces are as varied as the stars in the sky, some adorned with exuberant feathers, others encrusted with gemstones, each a symbol of status and wealth.

They lace me into a corset so tight I can barely breathe. Then comes the dress. Royal blue. Heavy. Elegant. They lace it tight, molding me into a shape I barely recognize. I catch my reflection in the mirror; I see the girl beneath the dirt. Under the grime, I have the same hair as Victoria, the same height, the same eye color, only our faces betray the lie. A delicate, jeweled mask is placed over my eyes, gold and intricate. Beautiful. A lie. “The Alpha is waiting in the royal gardens,” one of the maids whispers, her voice trembling. “He is already displeased. Do not make him wait a second longer.”