Novelas y relatos de The Masked Empire

The Door of Origin. Emery's throat tightens every breath. It hums with recollection. It recalls her. There is no power behind it. Not liberty. Not even affection. It has the first option behind it. The instant she broke the globe. At her side once more is the younger version of herself. This time, no words. Only a nod. Emery is the only one who can pass. Alone. The Masked Man calls her name. His voice cracks.

It was here that fortunes were made and lives were lost, and tonight was no different. Ethan wore a black mask, a symbol of the persona he embodied when he became Hades—the feared and ruthless leader of Hell's Gang. The mask was not just a cover but a mantle of authority that separated him from the man he was behind closed doors. In Tempa, he was not Ethan Leo, the heir to the Leo empire, but the enigmatic and unforgiving king of the underworld.

"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?"

Similarly, he wore a mask that was similar to the other Night Empire warriors with the only difference being the silver and purple detailing that signified his position. The face mask was a three-dimensional Dragon face made of light weight, highly impact resistant metal, black in colour with its features detailed in purple and silver, where the only exposed part was the eyes; the area of the mouth had a mechanical contraption that moved with the jaw movement and also allowed intake of food and drinks without having to be taken off. The other peculiarity of the mask was that it was fastened at the neck and could only be taken off by the fingerprint of the owner or his superior from the Night

The place was loud with music and laughter of men while I watched some spanking the waitresses' b*tts which made me scared. My steps started to slow when I entered the pub. Marian's hand didn't let go of me while our wide eyes explored the place. "Ladies," I was startled to hear that familiar voice. "Y-your G—" "Sir," lady Marian tipped her head at the man wearing an owl's mask in front of us. I didn't have to ask who it was because it was so obvious with those golden locks that it was Beta Emyr bowing low. He handed lady Marian two masks and Marian took the panther mask while she handed me the peacock mask. We both immediately wore it and followed Emyr out of the pub.

Emma raised a brow in question and let me put the white mask on her face, her bright blue eyes dilating when I tied it behind her head, making sure it was secure. “Don’t remove it,” I ordered, wearing my black mask, similar to hers, and entered the club. “Too bad it will be tugged off eventually,” she said, smugness dripping from her voice. I ignored the sultry music playing in the background and everyone’s stares as they ogled both of us, and pulled her closer. “What the fuck does that mean?” I asked, growling in her ear. Emma blinked up at me innocently. “If you don’t want to fuck me, Cillian, I am going to do an exhibitionism show in a private room, and I’m sure I’ll get many people—men,

I wanted to rip the mask off, to let him see the monster and the woman, and to lose myself in the heat of his embrace. But as his fingers moved toward the silk ribbons at the back of my head, a cold splash of reality hit me. I am a murderer, I reminded myself. I am an impostor in a dead girl's palace. He is a man of the South, a man of secrets. If I let him see me—truly see me—I would lose the only armor I had left. The power of my eyes was my greatest weapon, but my mask was my greatest shield. Just as his fingers brushed the knot of the ribbon, I grabbed his wrist. My grip was unnaturally strong, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal.

The impact sent the masked figure stumbling back, momentarily disoriented. The masked man recovered swiftly, his masked eyes gleaming with determination. He lunged at Coyle once again, their bodies colliding in a fierce clash of strength and skill. The fight intensified, and each blow was exchanged with equal ferocity. Coyle's mind remained focused on protecting himself and ensuring the safety of the pack and that of Emma, he will lay down his heart for them, even in the face of this unexpected threat.

I married my nightmares, a ruthless, Alpha, that could even kill someone for stepping on his toes. Will I survive my stay here in this palace? I’m not sure. But I wondered why it was wearing a mask though. He even wear it to sleep. Is he not tired of it? I wonder what his face looks like. “ are you staring at me? Or is this what you would do for the whole night?” His voice was low but menacing. There is no difference between my face and tomato. I closed my eyes instantly and covered myself with the duvet. Hiding myself completely under it.