Twisted Wonderland Glorious Masquerade Novels & Stories

the host called with so much excitement while pointing at the direction where Buyer 65 was. “$500,000!” “$500,000 from Buyer 50!” Buyer 50 was a woman. She also wore a mask so she could possibly be someone important and well-known. Seeing that the other competitors seemed to have given up, I guessed she would win. “$500,000, going once!” The host looked around with anticipation. “Will Xavier Hawthorn go home with our young lady here tonight?” He paused. “Going twice!” “$500,100!” I exclaimed.

Blood disguised under roses. Valerius bent close, his lips brushing her ear. “Welcome to the Masquerade.” At first, she thought it was only decadence. Dancers swirled in sweeping gowns, hands gliding over bare shoulders, masks kissing masks in secret alcoves. Champagne flutes passed from one to another, crimson stains on glass rims. But then Chloe noticed the hunger. Eyes behind masks lingered too long on throats. Smiles flashed too many teeth. A man in a wolf mask brushed past her, his gaze fixed on the pulse at her neck. A woman in crimson feathers smiled, and for an instant, Chloe swore her canines lengthened.

The white and gold creation covered the upper half of my face, adorned with tiny crystals that caught the light when I moved. For a moment, I hardly recognized myself. The woman in the mirror looked mysterious, alluring—nothing like the timid shadow I'd been for so long. I wondered if Alexander would see me differently tonight too. --- The masquerade was in full swing when I arrived. The yacht's upper deck had been transformed into a fantasy world of silk draperies, twinkling lights, and exotic floral arrangements. Masked figures moved through the space like creatures from another realm—women in revealing costumes that left little to the imagination, men in elaborate disguises ranging from t

If they would sense I didn’t fully belong. “Relax,” Ace said without looking at me. “I am relaxed.” He glanced over, one brow lifting slightly. I exhaled. “Mostly.” His thumb brushed once over the back of my hand, subtle and grounding. “No one touches you. No one corners you. You stay beside me.” That wasn’t a request. The venue was already alive when we arrived—a sprawling rooftop gala overlooking the glittering Manhattan skyline. Crystal chandeliers hung from a temporary glass canopy. Strings of warm lights reflected against polished marble floors. Waiters moved like clockwork, carrying trays of champagne.

she asked, offering her arm. I couldn't help but laugh at her exaggerated manners. "Yes, let's go," I said, linking my arm with hers. As we made our way into the grand mansion, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and trepidation. It had been years since I had been to a masked party, and the memories of my past relationship still lingered. Amelia, on the other hand, was in her element. She danced and mingled with ease, while I found solace at the bar, sipping on a drink and watching the partygoers from afar.

Isadora asked and this time when Darrian looked over, she was sitting on Eutychus’ lap, while they both sipped their drinks. “Let’s just say it's a wolf’s favourite thing.Ah, it now begins. ” Darrian explained and as he did, the lights on the casino floor changed, everything was dim for a second before the floor was cast in a luminous lighting, casting soft shadows all over. Minutes later, men and women, scantily dressed walked into the room, each with some sort of mask on their faces. “A Masquerade party?” Isadora asked a bit surprised but there was a hint of interest.

“This pack will be our hiding place, you just need to say the magic word, that would remain hidden for now. I traced my finger to the boundary of the witches' and wizard’s palace the Trigonia. “This is Trigonia.” A tall, majestic tree appeared, and a cute house was around. “The place of witches. I have their support in this coming war.”

They stepped forward together, crossing the threshold into the grand hall. The atmosphere shifted immediately. The party was a vision of dark elegance, a masquerade drenched in gothic splendor. Gilded chandeliers of iron and crystal loomed overhead, their long taper candles casting wavering shadows against the towering black walls. Every guest was adorned in extravagant attire, their faces concealed behind masks that ranged from eerily beautiful to unsettlingly grotesque.

The grand ballroom of the Red Moon Hotel unfurled before Marcus and Vivienne like a magnetic dream. The air was infused with the heady aroma of flowers, and the soft strains of music enveloped them as they stepped into the heart of the masquerade. The room glittered with the glow of chandeliers, the marble floors catching the streams of light and tossing them back into the air like teardrops. Couples in elaborate masks twirled on the dance floor, creating a scene straight out of a fairytale.

One look at me and the invitation in my hand was enough. The doorman wore a mask shaped like a crow’s skull. His voice was low, ritualistic. “The pledge?” “I pledge to the crow’s nest,” I said evenly. The mask inclined, approval granted. He stepped aside, and we entered. Inside, the world was velvet darkness and fractured light. Chandeliers dripped gold, shadows slithered across marble floors, and every guest wore a mask—foxes, serpents, ravens, wolves. Women with painted skin and hollow eyes drifted between the booths, trays balanced effortlessly on their palms, offering crystal glasses filled with things too expensive to name. The air buzzed with hunger, the kind that had nothing to do wit