Marked By Masks and Secrets (Everlasting Possession #1)

13

EVIE

“ I think we broke up,” I said to Idris at family dinner when he asked about Jacob.

It had been one night since I was attacked. No word from my boyfriend. I knew that he wasn’t aware I’d been harmed by a vampire, but his absence still cut deep. At the very least, I’d hoped maybe he would apologize for the way he spoke to me at dinner. But the harsh reality was that Jacob didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong.

Underneath my anger, I was heartbroken. But I’d survive. I was more than well-versed in comforting and caring for myself at this point.

“You think ?” Idris asked, settling in the chair across from me. “Well… good. I’m sorry, Evie, but that guy sucked.” His eyes went straight to my neck. “Why are you wearing a scarf? It’s summer, and you hate scarves.”

“She doesn’t hate my beautiful scarves,” Mena scoffed, her glasses low on her nose as she sipped white wine at the head of the table.

One of my summery flower arrangements sat in the center of the dining table, imbuing the air with soothing celebratory energy to facilitate harmonious conversations.

“Yeah,” I said with an enthusiastic nod. “I love Mena’s scarves. Plus, it’s pink. It’s a summer scarf.”

Idris’s face scrunched. “You’re full of shit. What are you hiding?”

I flattened my lips. “I wasn’t fed on by one of your idols, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Ew,” he retorted. “That is not an image I care to imagine. Gods.”

My cheeks heated. Somehow, that sounded like an easier lie to sell than the truth of the bruises on my neck. Because if I told Idris the truth, I’d not only worry Mena, but I’d also encourage his hatred of the born and his adoration of the Masked Order.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t also hate the born. I hated all perpetrators of violence. The turned weren’t the solution—they were only dragging more mortals into futile, circular bloodshed.

“Evie, you couldn’t lie if your life depended on it. You’re clearly withholding something that you don’t want to tell us.” His eyes narrowed. “Did Jacob hurt you?” he spat, his fist clenching where it rested on the table.

Mena’s eyes darted to mine, and she set down her glass.

“No,” I said quickly. “Well, not physically.” I stared down at my plate of potatoes, chicken, and asparagus.

I’d cried myself to sleep last night. When I woke up, I took my goods to Celeste’s. I squashed what had happened down with the other hidden, secret wounds. I laughed with the owners. I received a big hug from my elderly regular Cecil for the healing salve I’d made for him. He tipped me generously and whispered that I should open my own shop.

I’d smiled wider than I had in days.

But Idris had been right. I couldn’t run from everything forever.

“I was attacked by a vampire,” I said, meeting Idris’s soft brown eyes.

“Evie,” Mena exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand as her face fell. “Helia above, why on earth didn’t you say anything?” She looked at Idris as her voice cracked. “She just carried on with life like nothing happened.”

“That’s the Evie way,” Idris said quietly.

The words sounded like an insult, but his voice was soft and wounded. Idris stared at me, his lips turned down.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“He didn’t—he didn’t feed from me,” I said hurriedly, the words clawing out of my chest.

For a moment, I saw our mother and her soulless gray eyes.

Idris swallowed and reached for my hand. He looked at me in silent understanding, and for a moment, I wasn’t alone when the past reached with her icy cold hands into the present. I wasn’t alone when I heard the words, if you’re impure, you’re worthless.

A scratchy, hot sensation of discomfort spread over every inch of my skin. All I wanted was to lean into Idris’s comfort, his unspoken solidarity. But there was this shameful, sticky nausea in my gut at the thought of offloading any of this pain onto someone else.

I didn’t want Idris to know my suffering. I wanted him to be free from all of this. From our violent past, this tumultuous present, and the uncertain future. I wanted him to live a life liberated from all pain. I never wanted to see him hurt again.

“Are you okay?” he repeated. “I can move back home for a while.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes, I’m okay. And no, please don’t move back. I want you to keep thriving and living the life you deserve.”

Idris studied my face. His lip twitched, and for a moment, his eyes glassed over as if remembering something. When he came back to himself, the pain transformed to anger.

“Did someone give your attacker what he deserved?”

I swallowed, slowly retracting my hand from his. “Yes, someone did.”

A masked god of vengeance and shadow cloaked in black. Something dangerous surged inside me. The more I remembered about his smirk and his filthy words, the angrier I became. I wanted to study those damn sigils on his arms, to uncover the origins of his unholy magick.

Idris nodded. “Good.”

I took a bite of food, refusing to discuss this further.

After a few beats, I changed the subject. “How’s campus life?”

Idris was slow to transition back to his normal disposition, but thankfully, he yielded. As he spoke about mundane things, like his new friends and trivia nights and athletic competitions, I relaxed.

We would be okay. All three of us.

I peeked at Mena, who’d been watching our conversation in a contemplative, observant silence. She met my eyes, immediately standing from the table and rubbing a soothing circle on my shoulder.

“I’m going to fetch dessert. You’re getting extra whipped cream, doll.”

Two things became painfully clear over the next week.

First, Jacob must have returned to the countryside as promised, without so much as a goodbye. That was that, I supposed. I should’ve known a normal, healthy romantic relationship was far too big of an ask when I was… well, me.

Second, I was being watched.

I kept that second piece of intuition to myself, as I knew that Mena and Idris would both attribute it to the upcoming trauma anniversary.

But I knew. I could feel it. They hadn’t hurt me, at least not yet. But something had its eyes on me, for unknown, terrifying reasons. Did they know who I was? My magick? My past?

Each time I lost myself to a paranoid spiral, I pulled myself back out by focusing on what was directly in front of me.

Fuck Jacob’s business degree. Now that he was gone, I decided to ignore all of his warnings and rededicate myself to opening up my own shop. It was going to take a lot of work and far more savings than I currently had at my disposal, but I’d make it happen.

I could feel it buzzing under my skin—this greater purpose, the promise of a new, better reality than my current fear-based, comfortable normalcy. I wanted a challenge. I wanted to help as many people as I could in this world teeming with violence and apathy.

This time when I entered the library, I didn’t go to my usual, safe sections on herbalism and green witchcraft.

I went to the hidden, obscure section that only a particular kind of witch could sense and access. Witches like me.

In an unassuming, unmarked section upstairs, I found a bookcase of texts in various shapes and sizes, varying from ancient to modern. Some of them were made from scratch, with handwritten and hand-drawn pages, while others were clearly collaborative works created by covens or printed by scholars.

I closed my eyes and held out my palm. Show me what I need to read right now.

When I opened my eyes again, I had half a second to dodge a book flying through the air before it smacked into my face and broke my nose.

I squealed and ducked.

A deep rumble of laughter erupted from behind me.

When I turned, Kylo was leaning against a bookcase. In his broad hand, he held the book that had attempted to assault me.

“Up to no good, are we, angel?”

His voice and body were far more attractive than I remembered. It had perhaps been an act of self-preservation to downplay his beauty before. But now that he was here, in the flesh, there was no hope for curbing his ungodly effect on my insides.

My skin tingled as if all of my nerve endings had come alive all at once. Heat burrowed deep in my belly.

He was so tall that I’d have to leap for my book if I wanted to snatch it back from him.

And his smirk told me he was well aware of that reality. He followed my enraged gaze to the book he held high above me. “I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you. ”

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, acutely conscious of the paranoia creeping from the periphery of my mind and into my tone.

“A few seconds before I caught you trying to damage university property with your witchy telekinesis tricks.”

“I wasn’t—urgh—Can you please give me back that university property ?”

“Aw, well, since you asked so nicely,” he purred.

A flush crawled over my chest, my heart beating erratically. He glanced down, as if he could sense it too.

Or maybe he was checking out my breasts. That made more sense.

He lowered the book and stepped toward me. Those perfect lips curved into something dangerous.

I snatched it from his hands with an exhale.

“That’s a very sweet dress, angel,” he said, only moving closer until my back hit the bookcase behind me.

The dress was white with blue, purple, and pink floral patterns and a corset top. I didn’t usually show this much cleavage, but it was too pretty of a piece to resist. Besides, this was my era of evolution. Trying new things. Growing out of old, childish behaviors and tastes.

If anyone was a better embodiment of everything I’d once avoided, it was this tall, frightening man with a heart-melting grin.

“We’re going to have to work on your manners, aren’t we?” he said with a mocking pout. “That’s two missed opportunities to say thank you, Kylo. ”

“Fu—”

Before I could utter the next syllable, Kylo’s hand was over my mouth.

“Uh-uh,” he said, pressing his body against mine. “Be a good girl and watch your mouth.”

What the hell was wrong with me? I glared at him with nothing but fury, but my body only flushed with more heat, more confusing yearning. Everywhere he touched, I felt alive—more alive than I’d ever felt beneath a man’s touch before.

Jacob had never made me feel this way. As if my body answered to his command, like I wanted to be consumed by this maddening, uncontrollable draw to his powerful presence.

You’re my good girl.

That was what the masked vampire had said to me. Right after he’d flashed that wicked smirk.

Wait.

I writhed under Kylo’s hold. I carefully placed my book on the shelf next to me. I reached for his arm and pushed up his long, midnight blue sleeves.

“This is a bizarre way to try to undress me, princess.”

His skin was bare. No tattoos. No sigils. No shocking heat under my touch.

He was human. Yet that didn’t solve the confusion and murky, twisted intuition in my bones. I was more perplexed than ever.

A strand of his black hair dipped onto his forehead, and I had the fleeting curiosity about how soft it might feel under my fingertips. I lowered my hands to my sides and kept them glued there.

He removed his hand from my mouth, but his gaze remained on my lips. Intense, nearly angry, his deep blue eyes a stormy sea.

“Behave for me, please,” he said, low and commanding. The edge in his voice was wicked, his breath warm against my cheek as he leaned forward. “Libraries are excellent places to teach ornery little princesses harsh lessons.”

My brows scrunched, staring at him in utter shock.

I wanted to be angry. Gods, I wanted to be so fucking mad at him for speaking to me like this.

But the truth was, Kylo spoke to me like the men from my romance novels spoke to the main characters. The confidence, the danger, the focused attention. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I was a fly caught in his honey trap, and it was terrifying. Because I knew it wasn’t real. I knew he was going to hurt me.

Yet all I could do was inhale the scent of fresh mint and dark musk, with hints of leather and fresh berries. All I could do was try to slow my heart as he held his face inches from mine.

When he stroked my cheek, I inhaled sharply as if he’d shocked me. It was the slightest brush across my cheekbone, over too soon.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

Hell no. The mere thought of this near-stranger knowing that he reminded me of my favorite romantic leads was utterly mortifying.

I shook my head.

“My new favorite shade of pink,” he whispered, touching my cheek again.

I shuddered, squirming under his scrutiny.

He pressed into me, and I nearly gasped at the hard bulge now resting against my stomach.

When Kylo chuckled, I was certain my blush had turned cherry red.

He was hard from this? From pinning me to a bookcase?

And gods, why was it so big? Were they supposed to be that big?

“What’s that they say? A closed mouth doesn’t get fed?” He dragged his thumb down my lips, making them part. “Tell me what you want, Evie.”

My eyes blew wide. “I—this isn’t platonic,” I said, a touch too loudly. They were the only words I could think of, the place between my thighs aching as tingles cascaded over my skin.

There was a tiny dimple in his cheek when he grinned, the only piece of him that wasn’t devastatingly ruthless.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, staring at my lips like they held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.

When his hand moved to the base of my neck, his thumb tracing circles on my sensitive flesh, I nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.

“ Platonic ?”