Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“ H elena, please, ” Teresa hissed, tugging at her hand. “This was fun in the beginning, but have we not sufficiently proven our bravery? Come, let us get back to your house before your brother discovers that we have snuck out.”

Behind her black lace mask Helena Curtis, the Duke of Larsen’s younger sister, rolled her blue eyes. She and Teresa Bond, a new but dear friend, had been industrious in securing an invitation to the infamous Devil’s Masquerade, but now that it was time to actually go, Teresa was pestering her endlessly with annoying “what-ifs.”

“You truly think I went to all this trouble just to secure an invitation?” Helena asked, her tone low so the others in attendance would not hear them, “I want more than that, and so do you! You cannot deny that you are as curious as I am about these wicked soirees.”

Teresa blew out a frustrated huff from behind her peacock feather mask at being called out.

“What if it is not what we imagined?” Teresa countered, smoothing her hands stressfully down her shimmering forest green gown.

“What if it is such, and so much more?” Helena countered.

She pulled her friend closer while walking towards one of the many full-length mirrors that adorned the foyer to the private party, studied her reflection and smiled wickedly. Helena had traded her normal array of pinks and reds for jet black. Even her lips, which she usually coated with a rose-colored tint, had been carefully painted black. She looked wicked, dangerous and, in her opinion, menacingly beautiful.

“You know how insistent Ambrose has been lately,” Helena whispered. “He wants to see me married off to a man of his choosing.”

“Your brother loves you, Helena. You know he would not choose an ill fit for you,” Teresa replied. “Look at him and Barbara! He only wants the same for you.”

It was true. While Ambrose was the lord of their household and ruled with an iron fist, he also wanted Helena to be happy and settled in a good marriage. She had no doubt her brother would find her a calm, strong nobleman of decent age who would respect her. However, Helena remained unconvinced that a safe union was all she needed. She wanted passion, lust and all the passionate moments that had been so tantalizingly detailed in her beloved books, and she wanted to experience it all before being forced to wed someone “safe” and “secure.”

Helena knew that it was unladylike to have such desires, but for once, just once, she wanted to experience life the way she wanted, not the way others had planned on her behalf. Even her dearest friends Alice, Lydia, and Barbara often babied and sheltered her. She wanted to find someone who would not view her as someone that needed to be protected, but as a woman who deserved to be devoured .

“You may leave if you like,” Helena said kindly, so her friend would know that she harbored no resentment towards her hesitation. “But I will stay, Teresa, if only to know that I truly tried to experience that which I desire. Tonight, I desire a kiss. It is the first item on my list. A kiss like the ones that are described in our books.”

Their books differed from the seductive novels in which Alice and Barbara buried themselves. Though, if truth be told, the collection did come from Alice’s wickedly carnal library. She had found the abandoned library in Duncan’s estate in Baxter when she had first moved in and had immediately claimed it as her own. It was no ordinary reading room: its sole purpose was to house erotic novels. And there, among the many shelves of sinful texts, Helena had found the Seduction of the Gods collection and had shared them with Teresa.

The books were erotically rewritten tales about Greek gods who fell in love with one another or with their human paramours. Unlike other library books, the collection eroticized the concept of being owned, almost enslaved , by their desire for their lovers. They spoke of yearning and need in a way Helena had never experienced. She began dreaming of sinking to her knees before a handsome, dominant god who did not just lust for her body, but also for her mind and soul.

Helena yearned to be wanted so desperately that she would be seduced into obedience, into shedding her headstrong mantle and letting her body experience everything it was truly meant to feel. Pleasure. Lust. Willingness. She could not picture herself being with any of the men Ambrose had already paraded before her.

As a result, a plan to capture the experience for herself had slowly developed in her mind. Before she became chained — wedded, to a man who would never understand her intense desires — she intended to find, explore and become one with hedonistic pleasures.

Teresa closed her eyes tightly and let out a sigh. “That is also what I want,” she confessed in a whisper. “Perhaps you are right.”

“She is,” a deep voice stated.

Helena glanced at the reflection in the mirror as Teresa whirled towards the voice. They were greeted by a tall, masked man who wore a traditional, well-tailored tuxedo, beneath which a glaringly white shirt could be seen. His mask, a smooth, bone white ensemble that only covered his eyes, highlighted a strong, clean-shaven jaw and sharp cheekbones. His black, curly hair was combed back straight, only letting the edges curl at the nape of his neck.

“Allow me to welcome you to the Devil’s Masquerade,” the man said, bowing as he offered his hand to Teresa.

Helena’s eyes shot to her friend, whose face was as red as the nearby roses. She looked to Helena hesitantly, and after receiving a subtle nod from her friend, she slipped her fingers into the white-gloved hand of the stranger.

“Thank you, um, my lord,” Teresa said breathily, “My name is?—”

“We do not use our real names here, little peacock,” the man countered before Teresa could finish. He swept low and caressed his lips across Teresa’s knuckles, making her gasp and shiver.

“This is a safe space for all who attend. We do not use names. We do not remove our masks. And we do not take what is not offered.”

“Oh, my,” Teresa breathed, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Helena felt her lips twitch into a smile as she watched her friend become more flustered than before. Teresa now appeared much less interested in leaving the soiree.

“Perhaps you could help my friend to relax a little, my lord?” Helena asked, eyeing the two of them.

“And you, little Nyx?” the man asked, his posture straightening as he looked Helena up and down. “Do you need assistance in…relaxing yourself? I have a friend or two that would be honored to be your guide.”

Although flattered by the offer, Helena politely declined.

“Be merry, this evening, my friend,” she whispered to Teresa as she gave her a farewell hug. “Be wicked, but be safe.”

“You also,” Teresa whispered back. “Meet me in front of this mirror when the clock strikes one.”

For a moment Helena kept her eyes on her friend’s back, watching as she was led away by the handsome yet polite stranger. Then, free at last to do as she wished, she stepped away from the mirror and allowed herself a moment to take her first real look around. Every sconce was encased in red glass, and even the high walls of the room were swathed with matching red silk, disguising the room. Black flooring shone so vigorously that it reflected her appearance.

As she walked around she could see that every person in attendance was equally disguised. There was no pastel or light to be found among the dark. Like her and Teresa, everyone was dressed in black or a similarly muted color. The faces of the women were also painted differently. There were no tones to highlight their natural beauty. Instead, cosmetics were used to dramatize the eyes, lips and cheekbones which peeked out from beneath their masks..

As she took them all in, women and men alike, her eyes paused on a man leaning in the doorway between the foyer and the salon. Like her, he had opted for an all-black ensemble, and his head of deep brown hair was encircled by a crown of black thorns. His lips twitched into a seductive smile as she settled her gaze on him, and his defined jaw line dipped into a nodding bow as he raised his glass to her.

“Some wine, fair lady?” a man asked, holding a tray out to her.

Helena blinked, startled that she had so easily forgotten that there were others in the room. She glanced towards the masked man in the doorway once more and he gave her another nod, as if giving her permission to accept it.

“Thank you,” she murmured, turning to the waiter for the glass.

The waiter bowed to her as she brought the glass to her lips. The dark ruby wine was thicker and sweeter than any she had ever tasted, and she let out a soft gasp as she let it roll and play on her tongue.

“Drink it slow, my lady,” the waiter murmured in warning, a wicked grin on his masked face as he rose to his full height. “It is stronger than most.”

Helena gave him a nod, believing what he said to be true, and then turned back to the doorframe. Disappointment churned in her belly when she saw that her masked man was no longer there, and her black-painted lips drew down into a pout at her missed opportunity.

“Pray, do you know who that was?” she asked the waiter.

He chuckled as he shook his head.

“Even if I did, my lady, I am not at liberty to reveal that to you,” he replied. “My master takes the anonymity of his guests very seriously.”

He leaned closer and tilted the carafe of wine to top off her glass.

“But I will say this. If there is someone, or something special you are looking for, this is the place to find what you want.”

Taking a breath to steady herself, Helena willed her most adventurous spirit to the forefront. She had read of naked bodies and had seen them depicted in art. She had prepared herself to be shocked at what she might see and had opened her mind to accept it. Tonight was about not about judgment, but curiosity.

Was she truly the sensual woman she believed herself to be, or was she merely a silly girl who read too many books? Tonight, she would find out. Helena headed through the same doorway from which the handsome masked man had disappeared. Upon stepping inside the room she was instantly greeted with a myriad of perspectives.

Though most people in the room were dressed, standing and conversing, her eyes were immediately drawn to the people that were not. In the far opposite corner from where she stood, Helena saw a woman with nothing on but a mask, her legs splayed apart over the arms of a settee as a fully dressed man feasted between her thighs. The woman’s dark red lips were formed in a perfect O as her body writhed, lost in pure ecstasy. Helena noticed that some nearby guests were watching the couple, but there were many others that were conversing as though they were at any ordinary party.

Helena waited for the shock to set in, to feel a sense of shame creeping through her that would compel her to run out, but it never came. Instead, warmth flooded her body and teased her nerve endings, and she found herself smiling with giddiness.