Secrets And Masks Cover Art Novels & Stories

“Not all mates are as lucky to be adored and loved. I’ve never seen a couple as happy as that picture of your parents. I was possessed and subdued, never loved.” Darren sat silent for a long moment, staring back at me. He placed his hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know, those masks weren’t meant to hide a person. They were meant to reveal one’s inner self.” He pushed off the couch and walked to a cabinet in the corner of the room. He dug around in a bin at the bottom for a minute, then pulled out a mask like the ones decorating the wall downstairs in the pool room. It was a deep purple with black feathers coming from one side. “Ready to show that bastard your inner self? Th

OLIVIA’S POV I am walking into the unknown. I just kept moving. The air carries the sharp tang of disinfectant and something warmer, like linen that’s been ironed. The corridor stretches ahead in a straight, endless line. White walls. Square ceiling tiles. Every few feet, a framed print: muted landscapes, washed-out blues, and greens. Someone once decided these pictures would soothe people waiting for good news or bracing for bad.

Just a black button-down, rolled at the sleeves, with two buttons undone at the top to let the heat of my skin breathe. I slicked my hair back with wet fingers, noticing that I might need a trim as the hair was now long enough to reach my neck. I slid my blade into its sheath, and pulled a mask over my face as I left the office. The moment I stepped into the den, I felt the heavy, electric pulse of sex and secrets in the air. Everyone wore sleek masks that matched the sensual atmosphere of the room. Some were black lace, some golden or bejeweled.

"Not coming to what?" Luke Collins had come out of the shower. Droplets slid from his damp hair and vanished into the folds of his robe. The fabric clung to his frame, outlining his toned body. "It's just a party." I hurriedly ended the call, trying to avoid him and leave the balcony. 'Actually, it's my wedding,' I thought. His hand shot out, pulling me gently against him. The familiar warmth seeped through my clothes, stirring an ache in my chest. He chuckled, "Were you talking to Mike? Did you spill our secret?"

CHAPTER 65 ~THE GARDEN OF THE SUN-MASKED~ The Hollow Men did not return to the Vale. But they did not vanish. In the weeks following the Festival of the First Note, reports trickled in from the Silver Road. They were seen, still wearing their masks, but the masks were no longer blank. They were painted. Faint, tentative, often childlike: a wobbly green line for a stalk, a cluster of dots for stars, a clumsy spiral.

Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, lay the Mask of Fortuna. My breath hitched in my throat as I gazed upon it. The mask was an eerie thing of beauty, crafted from polished obsidian that gleamed under the dim light, its surface sleek and reflective. It was as if it had been pulled straight from the depths of some ancient world. Crimson rubies and emerald sapphires adorned it, set delicately in gold filigree, their fiery hues sparkling as I leaned closer. The intricate Roman symbols etched along its edges seemed to pulse with some forgotten power—laurel wreaths and the ever-turning wheel of Fortuna, as if the mask itself held the whims of fate in its design.

“That does little to reassure me.” Brandon leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Everyone here wears masks. Staff included. Patrons remain anonymous, and identities are protected. Think of it as… academic masquerade.” Hart reached into a sleek black box resting beside him and produced a finely crafted mask. It was matte black with subtle silver detailing—elegant. “For you,” he said, offering it with a small smile. Noah hesitated before taking it. The material was smooth beneath his fingertips, cool and unfamiliar. It concealed the upper half of his face—just enough to render him unrecognizable.

Exhaling sharply, she approached him to apologize. Before she could reach where he was seated, he raised his head, and the second he saw her approaching, he quickly closed the sketch book. What was he hiding? She wondered. “Hey, Bryan, right?” She said, smiling awkwardly as she came to a stop in front of him. “Yes.” He nodded. “I am truly sorry for standing you up yesterday. Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” “I was going to apologize." He told her. “Why?” She asked, surprised.

Hera looked at the black mask and turned her gaze to Jessy, "So, we have to wear these masks?" "Yes, as per the instructions. It seems this is a party for her daughter, who has just been accepted into a prestigious university in America," Jessy replied, holding her own white mask. Hera nodded in understanding, still holding her black mask, "Awesome. Alright, let’s go." *** During the journey, Jessy shared many stories, especially about her family, who always pressured her to take over her father's company. However, Jessy didn't like it; she chose to work part-time, allowing her more free time to relax.

My pulse raced with a daring anticipation, my pussy tingling with the thrill of the unknown, drawn by rumors of this night’s uninhibited pleasures—a forbidden dance I’d only fantasized about in the safety of my solitude. The crowd parted, revealing a group of five women, each adorned in elaborate masks and attire that hinted at their roles in this clandestine ritual. The leader, a tall figure with a gold mask and a flowing emerald gown, moved with a regal grace, her eyes—visible through the slits—glinting with a commanding allure. Beside her, a woman with a silver mask and a sheer black bodysuit traced the air with delicate fingers, her lithe form exuding a teasing elegance. A curvaceous wom