Chapter 4
four
THE MASTER.
Another birthday, another party filled with faces that might as well be masks.
Jarred had brought his new fiancée to this one.
She seemed nice, and he seemed genuinely happy.
It shouldn’t have hurt. I’d held onto this crush for years, but I didn’t actually know him.
I’d just watched him from a distance all this time.
It was past time for me to move on.
I wouldn’t spend another party, or annual trip, watching him from the shadows.
I’d been flipping the card between my fingers for the last twenty minutes: the one Tristan had given me exactly six years ago. There were times I’d considered calling the number, just to see what would happen.
I’d tried to google The Veil, but I found nothing that could be linked to this.
“An escape. A place you can be who you really are, and no one will ever know. Secrecy is assured. Just call the number and The Master will handle the rest.”
I couldn’t use dating apps. I’d be recognized if I used photos of myself, and even if I wasn’t, it was too risky. If I brought guys back here or met them in hotels, there was a chance of someone catching on. Of my father finding out.
I was twenty-four now. It wasn’t like my attraction to men was going away. So, I either risked causing a scandal my father would destroy me for, pretended I wasn’t attracted to men and ended up in a miserable marriage like my parents, or remained single forever.
I’d gotten by on porn, books, and toys until now. While I had no experience myself, I had a pretty good idea of what I was into. Maybe The Veil would be just what I needed.
I typed the number into my phone and hit call before I changed my mind yet again. It was just a phone call. Nothing I couldn’t come back from.
The dial tone rang three times before the line went dead.
I tried it again. The same thing happened.
Figured. I’d probably waited too long and whatever this stupid club was had ceased to exist. Whatever. I’d figure something else out.
I tended to my snakes—misted their tanks, checked their water and temperatures—going through the motions like it was any other day. Birthdays meant nothing to me anymore.
I’d seen the box cake Matthew had snuck into the pantry, and I planned to ignore it like I did every year. Maybe I’d just go for a ride and then get ready for the work week.
My phone buzzed on the table and I already predicted who it was from. Archer was busy these days, but he never forgot my birthday.
Wolf
Happy birthday, Snakey. Meet me.
Archer insisted we go by nicknames now that he’d formed the group he’d wanted. I was sure anyone who truly wanted to know our identities wouldn’t have to try too hard to figure them out, but it wasn’t like it caused any damage to use them.
He didn’t need to say where to meet him. I already knew. I dressed in my riding gear and set off.
It surprised me to find Archer wasn’t alone. The Strays were all here: Henrik who went by Hound, Coyote, Raven, Fox, Jackal, Cupid, Reaper, Halo, Knives, even Bull, who hated any form of socialization. Only Ghost was missing, but that was for the best. That guy seriously creeped me out.
They hollered and cheered as I pulled up.
There was a fire burning on the sand where they’d gathered, a short distance away from where they parked their bikes.
“What’s all this?” I asked as I approached.
“What’s it look like, Little Snake Prince?” Coyote smiled around a cigarette. “It’s a birthday party.”
“Just Snake is fine.”
He smirked. I knew he only did it because it annoyed me when anyone called me little, and Snake Prince was just what my nickname had evolved into over the years once the others realized who I was.
“Here.” Raven tossed me a beer, and while I didn’t drink often, I’d let myself have this.
Archer bumped my arm as he came to stand next to me. “Happy birthday, brother.”
I cracked the beer and gulped it down, if only to clear the lump in my throat and distract myself from the heat building behind my eyes. It was just a word, just a bunch of people with nothing better to do than drink at the beach. It was pathetic to let myself get emotional about it.
When the fire died down, we packed up and went for a ride along the coastline, the combined roar of our exhausts loud enough to shake the trees as we zipped past them.
I could have opened the throttle and left them all behind, but it was nice to slow it down and ride for fun for a change.
To let the wind, the ocean, and our engines drown out everything else for just a little while.
One by one they peeled off, their taillights disappearing as they split away down side roads, heading home, until it was just Archer and me, riding like old times. We raced. He lost. And then I was alone.
Deciding I should at least try to get a couple of hours sleep before Dad expected me in the office tomorrow, I made my way back into Harborview. This early in the morning there was barely any traffic. The roads were quiet, and the city was still, a ghost of what it became in the daylight.
That’s why I heard the bike long before I saw it.
It wasn’t the deep rumble of a cruiser, or the smooth hum of a sportbike. This was the scream of a supercharger, something that didn’t belong on city streets.
I slowed, scanning the empty road behind me.
A single headlight, and then the bike shot past me in a blur of black and chrome like a comet, the wave it left behind rocking my Ducati sideways. For a second I just stared after it, stunned.
We were already a quarter mile apart when the rider glanced back. Just a quick turn of the helmet. A challenge.
My pulse spiked.
He leaned forward, and his bike responded, screaming as he shot further down the stretch of road.
All plans of getting home at an already unreasonable hour were abandoned. I opened the throttle, and the Ducati roared beneath me, surging forward hard enough to pull my breath tight in my chest.
Streetlights streaked into white-gold smears as I chased him, the city passing in a blur of steel, glass, and asphalt. Every shift of gear pushed me faster, harder, until the needle hovered close to redline.
He stayed ahead. Not by much, just enough to taunt me.
I didn’t even know what I’d do if I caught him. Only that I had to try.
We passed through Harborview and to the outskirts of Deltran, two streaks of light on an abandoned road, until he gradually slowed, like he’d decided the game was over and he had nothing left to prove. I followed suit, my pulse still hammering in my ears as the wind eased and the roar faded.
He rolled to a stop beneath a half-dead streetlamp, wordlessly summoning me until I was finally at his side. When his visor turned toward me, all I could see in the black surface was my own reflection.
For a long moment, we both just stared at each other in silence. Then he reached for his helmet, and again I followed suit.
Peach-colored hair was swept back out of his face, and his eyes were so pale they almost looked silver. “Not bad, Harper,” said a smooth voice from full lips curved into an easy smile.
So, he knew me. But I was certain I’d never met him before. “Who are you?”
“You called me. I came.”
It took a moment for me to understand, to remember the call I’d made earlier tonight that had gone unanswered. “You’re The Master?”
“My friends call me Shady. You can be my friend, if you’d like.”
“How the…” My mind was spinning. “How did you find me?”
“You’re not the only one with security tech, Lorens.” He chuckled. “You’re not even the best.”
I had so many questions, I wasn’t sure which to ask first, but the one that left me was, “What do you want?”
“I want to help you stop pretending,” he answered, and I swallowed hard. Because he couldn’t possibly know anything real about me. No one did.
“What makes you think I’m pretending?”
“Everyone is pretending. It’s what keeps me in business.”
“The Veil?” I asked, and he nodded. “What is it?”
“A club. A very exclusive one.”
“What’s it for?”
“Whatever you desire. You want it? I got it.”
“And what do you get?”
He smiled wider. “You called me for a reason. You want an escape, and I can give that to you. Come to The Veil and see for yourself. Tomorrow, midnight. I waited six years for your call, let’s not delay this any further.
” He straightened, slipping his helmet back on.
“Nightshade Cellars. They’ll be expecting you. ”
Then he launched forward, his bike leaving dust and wind behind as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving me with my thundering pulse and my unanswered questions, and the knowledge that despite my lingering hesitation, I’d be there tomorrow night.