Twin Mask Rulebook Novels & Stories

But before I did so, I made sure I beat the living brightness out of your normal self so you wouldn’t have the nerve to come at me again. But this actually seemed to be the same scenario, only reversed, I was the prey and he was the hunter. The man in charge of us, I didn’t seem to grab his name when he introduced himself came closer to us and slowly gave out the instructions. “The rules here state that you are not allowed to hit anybody’s sensitive parts, but you are allowed to attack the person when you find out their weakness. And finally, two don’t leave the ring. It’s required to have only one survivor, and that’s it. So as you two can see, I’ve got all the time in the world. We could s

He was an athlete, a legendary playmaker who had broken every rule to skate beside me, but right now, he was simply my mate. I parted his thighs with my knees, stepping into his space with caution. Lucian arched his spine, his eyes glazing over with desire that matched the heat in my veins. "Do not treat me like I am made of glass, Orion. I am still your Twin Ace." "You are my world," I said, my jaw clenching hard as I fought to keep my dominant drive under control. "We play by new rules now." I gathered his hands, locking our fingers together and pressing his palms flat against the rug on either side of his head. Our bare skin pressed together, a proof of the permanent choice we had made in

CHAPTER ONE “I need you to pretend to be me.” The words hit me harder than the rain splattering against my kitchen window. I gaped at the woman before me. A woman I hadn't seen in eleven years. My exact replica. My twin sister. Except Arla Morrison looked nothing like the girl who had disappeared before sunrise, the morning of our eighteenth birthday with stolen cash and broken promises. She looked expensive now. Untouchable. Dressed in a cream cashmere that could pay my rent for five years, diamonds whose price certainly cost a kidney glittered against perfectly manicured finger, while my lights flickered like they were seconds away from dying.

I flicked and blows a breathe as wind form like a hurricane that made this wolf stilled but continue to fight. Every move he made he step forward until he was about to reach me when someone shouted. "WULAN!"

The tension between us thickens, the air heavy with uncertainty and apprehension. Realizing the potential danger of the man, my mind races with thoughts of him being a possible serial killer, and the fact that I am alone with him, riding his hand as he fingers me to tears, seems like a foolish decision. As he moves closer, his hand reaching out, I act on impulse, raising my hand and delivering a swift slap to his face, only to realize that he is wearing a mask. His reaction, a mix of surprise and offense, registers on his hidden expression, further adding to the tense and uncertain atmosphere between us.

"And you're just angry." The simple statement hit Twin B like a physical blow. For just an instant, the mask slipped, revealing something raw and wounded beneath the manufactured psychopathy. Then it was gone, replaced by cold fury. Twin B lunged without warning, covering the fifty-meter distance in less than three seconds—superhuman speed that would have been impossible for anyone without enhanced physiology. His movement was pure efficiency, wasted motion eliminated through years of brutal training, his approach angle calculated to minimize our reaction time while maximizing his tactical advantage.

"We need better weapons than these—something more reliable, more powerful, to give you a fighting chance." As soon as those words leave his mouth, a sudden realization dawns on him—the gravity of his mistake becomes clear. We both understand that the only way to acquire more weapons isn't through negotiation, but through an intimate gesture—more than a simple kiss. The rules, clearly state: "If you are in need of additional weapons for a fight, then your lips must touch more than your partner's lips." This rule implies a strategic connection between intimacy and weaponry, emphasizing the importance of closeness as a requirement for arming oneself for the fight against the night's creatures.

That made me smile. Ethan stood before me, his hair caught by the lights. His eyes were on me, glaring ready to pounce at any given second. Timothy stopped into the arena, his salt-and-pepper hair glittering, his green eyes lit by the white lights and amusement. “Alright. The rules are simple,” he said, coming between us. “Number one: you don’t attack until the bell goes. And number two: the only defeat is when an enemy taps out.”

"Caroline! Thank god you're okay. I preferred not to leave you alone with them, but they made me leave!" "I know. Look," I sit up against the headboard of my bed. "I found the leak. The twins have the information already. But I need you to perform a system test. If I found it here on my end, then it's going to be even worse over there." "Can you do it? Please! You are the only one who can create a better firewall than me!" "Fine, but make sure it's without the twins." He sighs on the other end. "They are quite the scary duo, aren't they? I'll set up a visit for you and send you the details."

The thought of her filled him up through the night and he wanted to get it sorted out. Eric had established different companies in Arkansas and was also a board member in many different companies. His new project was going to be the talk of the town as he had dreamt it would be, two twin 20-storey buildings linked together by a small bridge with all social amenities inside. Fascinating, he thought to himself as he carefully shaved his beard in the shower. "I need to look good today," he thought out loud, " I must make a good first impression, who knows today will be a winning day for me with Sandra". He hurriedly showered and made himself a cup of coffee.