Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
In the large mirror in front of us, our reflections meet eyes.
Chryser rimmed mine in smokey black and purple shadow, making them sexily stand out.
If I had done it, it’d look like I got double-whammy black eyes.
My lips are red, though he didn’t use lipstick.
It’s because there are teeth marks in them.
I must have bitten them raw throughout last night’s ordeals.
Luke’s mouth ravaging mine could also be to blame.
Making out is what I wish we could be doing right now. The platforms put me just an inch or so shorter than Luke. Beside each other in our matching outfits, we look like a real couple. It makes a deep yearning throb in my chest.
“Do you like the dress?” I do a silly twirl, directing my question toward Luke since it’s just us right now. Chryser went into the back to retrieve our final touches.
“It’s stunning.” Luke clears his throat, gaze lingering on the bodice. “You’re stunning.”
My face warms under the compliment. “I feel like a Disney princess. The gown kind of gives goth Belle vibes.”
“So does that make me the Beast?”
“You did get shot with an arrow. And hey, look at that. A movie you actually know.”
“Before it was a movie, it was a fairy tale. Everyone knows the fairy tales. It’s basic monster research.” Pulling out my dagger and thigh sheath, which I handed to him before changing into the dress, he raises a brow. “May I?”
Thank God the dress is squeezing me to death and thwarts my sharp intake of breath. “Sure.”
Luke drops to one knee. With nimble fingers I’m all too familiar with, he separates the slit of my dress. I shudder when his rough hands brush my thigh as he wraps the leather around my leg. He looks up at me, expertly buckling the sheath.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, grabbing the back of my leg. I suck down a breath. His palm feels like a brand against my skin, or maybe it’s my own flesh that’s hot. The reverent way he’s looking up at me certainly doesn’t help.
“I like you on your knees,” I admit, thinking of him in the same position in the bathroom.
Amusement flickers in his dark eyes. “That’s good to know. But I mean the strap of the sheath. It’s not too tight?”
“Oh, no, sorry.” I clear my throat, cheeks burning. “Um, that’s fine.”
His touch lingers, keeping my leg still as he slides my dagger into its home. My fingers brush through his thick strands without direction from my brain. It’s fine and all, but I want my fists knotted in them. I want to tug and pull until—
“I found what I was looking for,” Chryser announces.
My hands retract from Luke’s hair like it’s flames.
He’s slower to disengage, letting his fingers graze the sensitive skin at the back of my knee.
He stands, leaning close to whisper in my ear, “You said the dress reminded you of a princess. I think you look more like a queen.”
“Headquarters hasn’t hosted a masquerade in a minute, so it took me a bit of digging to find them. These should do.”
I’m grateful for Chryser’s interruption, because I have no idea what the hell I would have said to Luke. Eager to break his imploring eye contact, I turn away to grab what Chryser holds out.
A black animal mask. The full-face kind with two ribbons that tie behind the head.
“A jaguar,” Chryser informs me. “They represent divine power and protection. You can probably use some of that tonight. Try it on.”
By the time I secure mine, Luke is already staring at himself in the mirror. His mask perfectly matches his face shape. Also black, it leaves holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth. I don’t realize what animal it is until I notice the small horns at his temple.
“A goat?” I laugh. “Sorry, it’s not half as cool as mine.”
And mine is cool. My face has transformed into that of a black jaguar, with spots in varying darker shades all over it.
“It really isn’t,” Luke agrees. “Do you have something else?”
Chryser doesn’t even think about it. “Nope. Only those two.”
Luke turns back to the mirror. I grin at him. The lips of the mask grin with me. How?
I try to remove the mask, but it’s stuck. Not just stuck, but fused to my skin. I can’t find where my jaw ends and the silicone begins. “What the hell is this? Luke, it’s—”
“Cursed.” He sighs, more annoyed than panicked, like I am. “Well, Chryser?”
Chryser’s unable to hide his mischievous smirk. “Yes, the masks are cursed. But you can take them off. Just relax and will it.”
I force deep breaths that have me sure I’ll rip a stitch. If this thing doesn’t come off—
Like a suction cup losing grip, the edge pops off my jaw. I pry it off my head, tearing a few of my hairs with it. Luke already has his off.
“Give us something else,” he demands.
“That’s all I’ve got.” Chryser shrugs. “You won’t get in without a mask, and if you do, the last thing you want to be is an easy target for the hounds. I’ve been more than generous, have I not?”
“You have,” Luke grits out. “Now we really have to get going. But one last question.”
Chryser grins. “Anything for you.”
Luke raises the mask. “All cursed things have a point of no return. What is it for these?”
“All that time in the overworld hasn’t made you forget everything after all.” Chryser’s eyes reflect a wicked gleam. “If you keep the masks on past midnight, they won’t come off. Ever.”