Marked By Masks and Secrets (Everlasting Possession #1)

11

EVIE

T he restaurant was dimly lit and screamed wealth. White candles were placed on each table and set strategically across the dark wood furnishings to establish a cozy, relaxing ambiance. Waiters were attentive and serious, and the menu was brimming with delicacies.

As we ate, we spoke about Jacob’s travels and goals for the future. He talked about starting his own business—though he wasn’t sure exactly what kind of business—and building an empire . He mentioned his desire for marriage and children, and my stomach somersaulted.

Did he see those things with me?

“I crafted a new spell today,” I said. “For artists.”

Jacob smiled, swallowing his bite of steak. “That’s lovely, Evie.”

I waited for him to ask me about it, but he didn’t.

“Do you want to travel again in the future?” I asked.

Jacob’s eyes lit up. “Desperately. In fact, I’m considering going back to the countryside soon. For a month or two, maybe. I made some friends there. And I’m still brainstorming ideas for my business. The fresh farming air was doing wonders for my inspiration and focus.”

My stomach dropped. Jacob continued to eat, staring off into space at times. I waited for him to ask me how I felt about him leaving again or ask me if I wanted to join him.

He didn’t do either.

This relationship was making me feel insane. Was it really so normal to not consider your partner at all before you left them for weeks? To not want to bring them along?

Maybe if I had more experience, or more friends, I’d be able to understand if my disappointment was as irrational as Jacob always told me it was.

Not that I would ever return to the countryside. I’d likely never leave Etherdale.

After a long spell of silence, I spoke again. “I woke up from nightmares this morning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jacob said. “They’re probably from all that worrying you do.” He smiled teasingly, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth.

“I do worry about Idris. Maybe too much,” I admitted. “I just want him to be safe. And happy. I’m already concerned about him being on campus during times like these, but then to hear that he’s going to take fighting classes, idolizes the Masked Order—a clan of literal violent criminals?—”

“Evie,” Jacob said, cutting me off. “Idris is an adult. He’ll be fine. You’re catastrophizing. I’ve heard about this every single time we’ve hung out.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I shouldn’t have said anything about the nightmares or worries. I shouldn’t have changed the subject to something so negative.

“I’m not your emotional healer, you know? These are things you should talk about with a professional.”

I shrunk back in my chair. “I’m sorry.”

“You have to consider my feelings, too. You can’t keep hogging all the emotional space. It’s exhausting. I’m politely telling you that I’m at my limit. I have my own problems to worry about.”

He was at his limit . I took note of the arrogant tilt to his head. He was looking at me as if he expected even more of a reaction—a stronger apology, maybe.

I suddenly remembered the tarot reading from earlier today and the clear message that our relationship was dead.

An uneasy feeling stirred somewhere deep inside my gut.

This relationship was not normal.

Or maybe normalcy had nothing to with it.

This relationship wasn’t good for me. In fact, I realized it was slowly killing me inside.

The growing feeling inside my stomach continued to churn. It was becoming more than unease. That strong, angry part of me was waking from her slumber.

A witchy wind blew through the air, as if the spirits were affirming this sudden breakthrough in clarity—the shattering of my current reality in favor of a new one.

“Why did you invite your ex last night?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest as defiance lit up my nerves.

“Evie,” Jacob said, anger flitting in his eyes as his lips turned down. “Don’t do this.” He glanced sideways in both directions to see if people were staring.

“Why did you invite her?” I asked again.

Jacob rolled his eyes. “She’s friends with my friends. It would’ve been weird if I hadn’t invited her. Plus, I didn’t send out invites. My mom did.”

His answer confused me, as it seemed to be both a justification for his actions and a denial of responsibility rolled into one.

When he’d brought me gifts earlier today, he’d only apologized for letting me leave the party upset, as well as the cruel things his friends had said to me in front of him. I hadn’t brought up his breaches in trust, or what I’d overheard.

“Why did you tell your friends that I was a chaos witch, when I specifically asked you not to?”

His lip twitched, something cruel entering his hazel irises even as his face appeared stoic and immovable.

“You never told me not to tell anyone,” he said, suddenly shifting into a look of confusion.

All manner of warning bells rang in a cacophony.

He watched my face carefully, then continued. “Even if you did tell me not to, which is doubtful since I don’t remember it, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“What about our sex life? Why did they know we’ve never had sex?”

Jacob lowered his voice. “We’re in public,” he hissed. “But you never told me not to tell anyone that either. Besides, you tell Mena what a horrible boyfriend I am all the time. You think I haven’t noticed how she looks at me, but I have.”

I shook my head. “Jacob, I have never told Mena you’re horrible. I?—”

“How could I believe that? When you’re hurling accusation after accusation at me? What is this incessant need to always make me the bad guy? You have your fair share of flaws, too, Evie, believe me . But here you go, painting your subjective view of reality as if it’s fact. When really, your version of events is completely skewed. I pity living in a mind like yours, where everyone else is a mean evil villain and you’re just a perfect little angel who could do no wrong.”

For a moment, I was stunned. I tended to freeze during conflicts, no doubt a trauma response from my childhood, or whatever Mena’s psychology professor friend had called it.

I could feel the weight of multiple pairs of eyes that had strayed our way toward Jacob’s raised, emotional voice.

Angel.

For whatever reason, my brain snagged on that word, used it as a springboard for action. I thought of that mysterious man who’d treated me with such patience and care, who’d peppered me with meaningful questions and looked at me like I was something rare and priceless.

I might never see Kylo again, but whatever it was that he made me feel, that was what I wanted. That was what I deserved.

I stood up from the table.

“Sit. Back. Down.” Jacob’s eyes were pure venom. “People are staring.” For a moment, I saw a wounded little boy, terrified of abandonment and on the verge of a tantrum.

When I placed my napkin on the table, he grabbed my trembling hand.

A flash of intuition flooded my mind from the channel he opened with his touch—the smell of perfume, a woman’s laughter, red lips on his neck.

Weaker individuals tended to be the easiest to read.

Tears stung my eyes. I yanked my hand free, and after one last hard stare, I turned on my heel and walked away. Several candles snuffed out as I passed.

I walked as slowly and calmly as I could manage until I exited the restaurant. Once outside, I quickly made my way to a side street. It was only then that I finally allowed the broken sob to leave my lips. At this point, I wasn’t even sure which part of that dinner from hell hurt the worst. The realization that he’d cheated on me was strangely low on the pain scale. The attacks on my character and the way he made me question my sense of reality were far worse.

Hysterical, inappropriate laughter spilled out of me.

The cards never lied.

“What are we laughing about, little human?”

I stiffened, then spun toward the voice. The vampire was in front of me in a flash. Only two feet of space stood between us.

Vampires often confused me for a human, given I had a human father.

Your blood smells unique. Delicious. Perfect, a ghost from the past whispered, turning my insides rancid.

I stood perfectly still, assessing my options quickly.

I’d never been fed from before, and that was not a form of virginity I had any desire to lose. Panic seized me, and a buried power promised protection.

But I stamped it down.

It wasn’t that late. Surely there were vampire hunters around, or anyone at all who could help me. I opened my mouth.

“If you scream, I’ll kill you. I will snap your little neck before anyone can hear it. Is that understood?”

My focus sharpened on the vampire before me. His rancid, copper breath fanned across my face. His red hair brushed his shoulders, and his suit was flashy yet ill-fitted. The bright crimson fabric made my heart skip a beat, reminding me that I might only be seconds away from death.

His cruel, near-black eyes were devoid of empathy—two deep, cold voids that sent a shiver straight to my soul.

Those voids sharpened to slits. “Is that understood ?” he repeated.

I nodded. My heart hammered. Buried power roared to life in my bones, like a feral, caged animal.

The cage remained locked tight. I’d find another way to survive. I had to.

He grabbed me by the hair, jerking my head backwards and exposing my neck, and I winced, fighting against the instinctive urge to yelp.

“You smell so fucking good,” he groaned, his lips nearly brushing my ear. His breath was hot against my cheek. “You may look sweet and pure, but I can scent the naughty truth.”

His manic laughter twisted my guts into knots. In a flash of movement, he grabbed me and shoved me against a boarded-up door in a narrow alley so that we were completely obscured from sight.

Pure.

If you’re impure, you’re worthless.

My skin seared with heat.

“Ow, fuck,” the vampire screamed, letting go of me and rearing back.

His eyes grew crazed, and I knew he was on the verge of bloodlust. Once he entered that wild, feral state, my demise was guaranteed. A vampire in bloodlust lost all control. They fed on their prey with no restraint, tearing them apart until they were nothing but ruined flesh.

He snarled. “Are you a fucking witch?”

It was already starting to leak out of me—this poison, this darkness that might swallow Etherdale whole. I couldn’t hurt anyone with my magick.

I’d rather die.

When he grabbed my throat, I felt useless and weak. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight. I was yet another innocent lost to pointless, disgusting violence. It was a vat of pain we were all drowning in, heaving lungs and flailing limbs, victims to a sickness that spread endlessly.

His grip tightened in response to my silence, and a cloud of darkness eclipsed my vision. I writhed and clawed at his arm, but he only flashed his fangs and squeezed harder.

I saw my mother’s face. I searched her eyes for warmth, for comfort. Two empty voids stared back.

“Your body is going to be covered with my bites. Every single part of you.”

I shut my eyes. I ignored the survival instincts begging me to fight. Begging me to grow the fuck up—to stop being childish and weak.

A growl tore through the night. The hand on my throat receded, and oxygen flooded my lungs.

I coughed, sucking in air and slumping against the door. I opened my eyes.

A man wearing a frightening, deep black skull mask that covered most of his face stood before me. His black shirt was rolled up, revealing elaborate onyx tattoos on his fair skin. Symbols, patterns, and sigil-like structures that I might’ve wanted to inspect closer under different circumstances.

Shadows crawled from him, tendrils of smoke and clouds of darkness. All that I ran from, all that I feared.

Those familiar whispers tickled my eardrums.

I flattened myself against the structure at my back. My chest rose and fell rapidly. The man’s lips were uncovered and stained crimson. At his feet was the born vampire, crumpled and motionless in a pool of blood.

I was slow to move my eyes back up to the masked vampire before me. The vampire who was once human—a blasphemy of Helia’s creation, an obscene mockery of Lillian’s demon spawn.

His diagonally carved mask covered his eyes, obscuring any evidence of that lingering humanity. It was a strange opaque material, churning slightly as if made of the same inky shadow as his powers.

He was tall and muscular, a finely tuned weapon whose focus was trained entirely on me.

I swallowed. “Thank you.” I rubbed at my burning, sore throat. “You saved me, right?” That was supposed to be the Masked Order’s purpose—to defend mortals against the born. “Or are you going to hurt me, too?”

He shook his head. When he stepped over the dead born’s body, I realized I’d been trembling. When his hand slowly reached toward me, those trembles turned violent.

His fingers brushed against my cheek. The touch was so gentle that it made me shiver, goosebumps erupting over my exposed arms.

I held my breath, disoriented, confused, terrified, and yet…

There was something inside of him that called to me. The dark stillness around us was comforting. Familiar.

A drop of blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.

He was a fucking monster. A monster who ate other monsters.

There was something familiar about his smirk, but before I could place it, the mask itself shifted to cover his entire face.

“I will never hurt you,” he said.

His words came out deep and powerful, yet muffled, as if the shadows were disguising his true voice.

“Unless you ask very politely.”

A startled, surprised noise escaped me as I tripped over my words.

He cocked his head, as if amused. A sly cat toying with a mouse.

“Please let me go.”

The tattooed, masked vampire towered over me. Even if I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel their scorch on every inch of my skin.

My body had never been more confused, caught between intrigue, comfort, terror, and the strangest, most dangerous curiosity.

He stepped back. “Go straight home.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not one of your brainwashed henchmen. You can’t order me around.”

“Mm,” he rumbled, his chest shaking slightly with a low chuckle. He took more steps back, utterly ignoring the dead and mangled born at our feet. “You’re right. You’re far too adorable to be one of my henchmen.”

I scoffed, my brows shooting up.

“You’re going to do what you’re told because you’re my good girl.”

I’d stopped shaking at some point. My panic had dissipated. Those ghoulish hands from the past stopped their reaching.

All I felt was flustered irritation.

I didn’t look at my attacker’s body on the ground as I delicately stepped around his crumpled form.

“You’re disgusting.”

He shrugged, stepping back onto the side street. “Do you need a healer?”

I exited the alley slowly and cautiously, half afraid he was about to snatch me up and hurt me after all.

Did I need a healer? What a bizarre question from a violent street thug who was brazenly flirting with a stranger who’d just been attacked.

He was insane. No need to overanalyze.

It was hard to look away from this masked vigilante. Shadows circled him like he was some kind of dark god of the underworld. The power he radiated could be felt viscerally, emitting a forceful hum that rang through the air.

“I—no. I don’t need a healer,” I mumbled. I heard voices in the distance. The man shrouded in violent magick didn’t move. He only stared at me from behind his impenetrable mask.

I backed up from him slowly and walked in the opposite direction. Away from the restaurant where my boyfriend was likely finishing his glass of red wine, oblivious to the fact that I’d nearly had my throat ripped out.

Away from this man with poison coursing through his veins. The darkness that whispered to me—the darkness I’d shunned long ago, in some nowhere village amid the rolling hills of the countryside.