Chapter Four
Viktor
“This is gonna be great,” Brock says, adjusting my tie for me while Avery fixes my hair. “You look hot as fuck, you’ve got your invite, and your mask is gorgeous. We’re going to be here, making sure you have a safe space if you need it. But you’ll also have your own room if you meet someone.”
“Jesus, Brock. Quit mother-henning the poor man,” Ellie says from the bed.
“I promise I’ll be safe,” I say with a chuckle, warmed by the concern from my closest friends.
We booked a hotel across from the recreational hall.
They drove me here and are going to stay in this room for the night just in case I need them or need backup.
I doubt anything bad will happen but it’s nice knowing they’re here, just in case.
“Don’t just be safe,” Avery says, finally stepping away from my hair. “Have some fun as well.”
“Yeah!” Ellie jumps in. “It’s about time you went back to slutting it up! Get some ass tonight, bestie.”
I sputter at how excited she is. “Don’t be weird about it,” I say as everyone laughs.
“Only slut it up if things feel right. From what I can tell, this seems like a paranormal event so you won’t have to hide yourself. Who knows, maybe you’ll even find the one.”
For some reason, my stomach swoops at that. Could my mate be here at this ball? I don’t know but there’s only one way to find out.
As I make my way out of the hotel and towards the hall where the ball is being held, I can’t help but touch my mask.
I ordered it from an online maker. It looks similar to a peacock, the feathers starting on either side of my mouth, my eyes the round part at the tip of a peacock feather.
It shimmers and sparkles with an iridescent green.
I’ve lined my eyes with black kohl, my lids covered with more shimmering green.
My mask is the staple of my outfit, the rest of it put together from clothes people have lent me.
These black slacks are my own along with my Converse.
The jacket is Mr. Truffle’s and the bow tie belongs to Ellie.
I’m also wearing a pair of suspenders I borrowed from Avery.
It feels kinda nice, having pieces of them all on me.
It gives me just a little bit more confidence, knowing I’m bringing them with me.
Somehow, everything goes together despite it being a mismatch of items.
As I step inside the recreational hall, I’m transported into a winter wonderland that steals my breath. The sight is absolutely marvelous but there’s more than that, there’s also magic in the air. This entire place is enchanted, quite literally.
“Good evening,” a woman says with a grin, looking up at me from a desk at the front of the hall. The name plate on the table reads Bex. “Do you have your invitation?”
“I do,” I say, pulling it out of my pocket. This woman has an aura to her that leaves me feeling at home. She’s not just fae-like, I’m fairly certain she’s an actual pixie. That explains the magic in the invites. It still doesn’t answer the question of why me?
“Perfect,” she says, holding out her hand. I place the invite in her palm. She waves her other hand over it.
My invitation is consumed with magic, puffing out into an array of bright sparkles that flitter through the air. I watch, transfixed, as it floats towards me, colliding with my mask. I feel the warmth of it, the way it means me no harm. The magic attaches itself to my mask.
I touch my mask, sensing what sort of spell this magic is associated with. Ah, okay, I think I understand. Bex is watching me, waiting to see if I figure it out on my own. Somehow, she knows I’m a mage, just like her.
“No getting drunk tonight,” I say with a grin. “My identity is safe. Oh, and the equivalent of a magical Xanax?”
“Pretty much,” she says, delight written in her features. “I’m glad you came tonight, Viktor. I think there’s something very special in store for you.”
“How can you know?”
Bex shrugs. “I don’t know anything for certain. But let’s call it a matchmaker’s sixth sense.”
“Not a school of magic I’m familiar with.”
“We all have our specialties,” she says in response. Then she reaches up and pats my arm. “Don’t forget what your invite told you. Enter with an open heart and who knows what or who will be waiting for you.”
With that, she sends me on my way. As I walk deeper into the hall, I keep getting whiffs of a delightful cinnamon scent, one that leaves me smiling from ear to ear. I’m not someone who goes to fancy events like this, but I’m glad I came. This truly feels like a once in a lifetime event.
Going through the doors into the main part of the ball, I’m struck all over again by how beautiful everything is.
It’s clear that Bex, or whoever runs this ball, took a lot of time to design everything themselves.
There’s fake snow and twinkling lights and live, soft music playing.
There are tables for people to sit at and an open area for dancing.
Across the room, there’s also a full bar.
I make my way over to the bar, nodding at people as I go.
The magical masks mean that I can’t truly distinguish people’s faces, like somehow the picture of them won’t fully form inside my head.
That leaves a thrill inside my belly. Everyone, including myself, is anonymous tonight.
If for any reason, I want someone to see my true face, all I will have to do is simply remove my mask, but until then, no one will be able to know who I am.
Tomorrow, they won’t remember my face no matter how much they try.
As I get closer to the bar, one person in particular catches my interest. He’s tall and handsome, wearing what I can only guess is a designer suit. It’s black and kinda plain but the way it fits him tells me it was hand tailored just for him. It fits him like a well-loved glove.
The way he kinda wiggles his hips, moving from foot to foot as he leans against the bar tells me he’s nervous about all of this, nervous about being here. My heart gives a little flutter. I find that adorable.
Everything inside of me is drawing me in this direction.
It feels like I’ve gained some sort of tunnel vision.
Everyone else just fades into the background.
There’s no music, there’s no people, there’s no attractions, there’s just getting close to this man until I can meet him.
It’s a strange sensation but one I’ve learned to trust, especially after my magical lessons with Nash.
Just as I walk close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder, the man turns quickly, splashing the front of my chest with his drink.
“Fuck,” I say, just as he yelps, “sorry!”
I look down at myself and then I look up at him. I feel frozen in place. Oh. My gods. His eyes widen and so do mine. That same magic flutters across us, making it so we can’t distinguish each other’s features but still, somehow, I know that this man is beautiful.
I realize with a start that my hand is on his arm. Warmth fizzles across my skin, running up my arm and stopping at the center of my chest, right where my heart lies. My heart thumps so loudly, I swear everyone in the room can hear it.
“Hi,” the man across from me says, his voice achingly soft. His voice is like music and I swear I could listen to it all night.
“Hello,” I say back, unable to keep myself from smiling.
“What’s your name?”
“Viktor.”
“Viktor,” he says it back and good lord, I like the way my name sounds in that light, musical voice of his. “I’m Duncan.”
At the sound of his name, I tighten my hand, only realizing right now I’d latched onto Duncan’s arm when we collided. I can feel my cheek heating, neither of us letting go. Duncan opens his mouth to say something but the barkeep is suddenly there.
“Gentlemen? I have a towel here to help clean up the mess.”
Our little bubble is suddenly popped. As much as I miss the touch as soon as Duncan pulls away, I’m glad for the reprieve. There will be time for staring later. At this point, people are going to start thinking we’re a couple of weirdos, just standing here touching and staring like that!
“Sorry,” Duncan says again, passing the towel from the barkeep over to me.
I shake my head with a smile as I take it, carefully dabbing the front of my suit.
With a little spark of magic, I clean up the rest. The last thing I need is to be standing around in soaked clothes, especially as most of these aren’t even mine.
As Duncan tosses the rag back onto the bar, I watch as the pixie from earlier, Bex, hurries behind the bar. She’s talking to workers and shuffling things around. She catches my eye then looks between Duncan and I. With a knowing smile, she hurries back on her way.
She knows something that I don’t.
“Another Dirty Shirley?”
“Yes, please,” Duncan says.
The barkeep looks to me. “And for you?”
“Uhh,” I look up at the board filled with tonight’s special cocktails. One of them has a funny name. “I’ll try one of your event flavors. The uhh, Festive Fuzzy Nuzzy, please.”
As we wait for our drinks, Duncan and I stand side by side, leaning against the bar. I can feel him beside me, so fucking close yet not quite touching. There’s an itch at the back of my brain, driving me to get just a little bit closer, to bridge that gap between us.
I stay where I am.
“So,” I start to say, but Duncan talks as well.
“Did you--”
I smile at that, turning forward just as the barkeep drops off our drinks.
“There you go, try not to spill this time,” he says with a wink that makes me chuckle warmly.
“I really am sorry about that,” Duncan says as he picks up his drink.
“It’s okay, really,” I tell him and mean it. It was nothing a little magic didn’t fix right up. “Better than any icebreaker I probably could have come up with.”
Duncan’s eyes widen. “An icebreaker? You mean you were going to come talk to me?”
I roll my eyes. He’s by far the most handsome person in this room, despite the whole ‘I can’t really see people’s faces’ thing. “Obviously.”
I watch as Duncan’s body seems to relax.
One moment, his shoulders are practically touching his ears and now, they slowly fall back down to their rightful place.
It’s almost like it was hard for him to believe that I would want to come talk to him.
That’s interesting and something for me to keep in mind.
“C’mere,” I say, putting a hand on Duncan’s elbow and leading him down the bar so we can sit while being out of the way for people to order their own drinks. The bar curves, ending against the wall. We have our own little corner down here. The perfect place to chat.
We sit down and I finally take a look at my drink.
When I ordered the Festive Fuzzy Nuzzy, I had no freaking clue what I was ordering but I’m pleasantly surprised.
It’s warm, which is lovely, and smells like chocolate and peppermint.
Maybe it’s a spiked hot chocolate? The whipped cream on top is pink and has little sprinkles in it.
I bring it to my mouth and carefully take a sip. Yep. Spiked hot chocolate. Jesus, this is delicious.
“Oh, umm. You have umm,” Duncan starts to murmur. There’s a brightness to his cheeks that I find absolutely adorable, his voice a little high pitched and unsure. “Let me just…” his voice trails off as he brings a hand to my face.
A flutter of something unnamed ripples through my belly as Duncan touches my nose, wiping a bit of whipped cream from the tip. The gesture is so soft.
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at my drink with a little smile.
“No worries.”
We both take a drink, like we need a reason to not talk. Things feel somehow perfectly in sync yet achingly awkward at the same time. We just need to find our footing.
“So,” I say, looking over at Duncan. “It’s no secret everyone here is part of the paranormal world. What’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah. Are you human?”
“Oh! Right. Yes, that’s what you mean. Umm, I’m a wolf.”
I can’t distinguish his face but there’s something about him that screams wolf. Yes. I can see it. He might be a bit timid and unsure, but the way he squares his shoulder and holds himself. It makes sense.
“I’m a mage,” I tell him before he can ask. “I’m still really new to all this.”
“To masked balls? I’m new to them too,” he says quickly, like he needs me to know this isn’t his usual scene.
“I mean, this is my first ball, but that’s not what I meant. I meant I’m new to the paranormal. I was a bit of a late bloomer. Only came into my powers recently.”
“Oh,” he says, his cheeks heating. “Right, that makes sense. Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, reaching over and placing my hand on his wrist. There are those sparks again. I give it a little squeeze before going back to my drink.
Duncan nurses his drink, staring down at the bar like he doesn’t know what to say. I can’t tell if he’s just nervous or awkward or is trying to think of a way to walk away.
Okay, so the whole point of this ball is to meet people.
As much as I’d like to stay and talk with Duncan, maybe it would be best if I drift off and talk with some different people.
Can’t put all my eggs in one basket, even if that basket is making my heart pound inside my chest in ways I’ve never felt before.
“Hey, I absolutely adore your suit,” someone says, sliding next to Duncan. “It’s designer, right?”
“Yeah,” he says with a nod, starting to explain.
I suddenly feel weird. I don’t know if it’s jealousy or what, but my stomach clenches in a sour way.
Duncan is wearing a designer suit, something I would never be able to afford in a thousand years.
It seems important to him based on this conversation.
Maybe things were so awkward because we’re just not meant to be.
With Duncan distracted, I use this as the perfect time to slip away.
I move through the crowd until I find one of the little booths set up.
I duck into the Christmas tent and am greeted by a handsome gentleman sitting at a table.
There’s a crystal ball in the middle of the table and he’s shuffling a deck of cards.
The tarot cards have a magical enchantment to them, helping the dealer to truly read fortunes for whoever is drawing the cards.
Awesome!
He looks up at me with a grin. “Would you like me to read your fortune?”
“Would I ever,” I say, sitting down across from him, wondering why my heart feels so sad that Duncan isn’t in here with me.