The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

The warrior’s eyes narrow at my response. “By my own assessment, you left for the novelty of it. Or maybe . . . it was to avoid the consequences of that destructive little stunt you pulled.”

  I bristle at the reminder. “No, that’s not—”

  Her lips press. “You have twenty-four hours, Umbria, to get your affairs in order and say your goodbyes to the mortal world before I return you to court.” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “And understand this: I will bring you back to our realm on your terms or on mine.”

  I lift my chin in response, and she takes a step back.

  “I suggest you make this easy on both of us, and return of your own free will.”

  Within seconds, she fades and teleports, leaving behind a cloud of crimson specks that shimmer in the night air, sparkling in the moon’s light. Mortals call them dust particles.

  Frustrated, I take the last few steps to my apartment building and all but run up the stairs to the third floor. The moment I walk in the door, I flick on the lights and throw my bag onto the small entry table. Instantly, it slips and with a thud, falls to the floor before I can catch it.

  Some of the contents in it spill out, including my lip gloss, my wallet, an invitation, pens, and other odds and ends. Bending down, I start grabbing the items to put back when the silvery invitation stops me. Holding it up, I stare at it, reminded of how it appeared in the moonlight, out of thin air, earlier in the evening. I flip it over and read out loud: “The Monster Ball.”

  Looking around my small studio apartment, I bite my lower lip in contemplation. There is no way in hell I am returning to Aragon with Darciana. Doing so would be sealing my fate—death. My shoulders slump as the weight of the last few months comes crashing down on me, causing my throat to close. Thoughts of my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother have me barely breathing. My eyes burn with my unshed tears. I miss my mom.

  Their deaths are still so raw and painful.

  And what I did— I swallow hard, clearing my throat as I stand, invite in hand.

  “Looks like I am going to a ball,” I whisper into the empty apartment.

  Fleeing to an old castle for a night of dancing and drinking sounds a lot better than facing the Court or Darciana again. Eventually, I’ll fix what I’ve done. Tonight though, it will be all about disappearing for a little while and pretending to be someone that I am not.

  Before I face death, I might as well live.

  Resolved, I storm into my bedroom and open the closet, pulling out the black vintage gown hidden in the back. It’s the one my mother was saving for my coronation. With it firmly in hand, I head into the bathroom to shower and get ready. One last night, I tell myself.

  One last night before my world turns to shit.

  One last night to live.

  One last night to breathe.

  Chapter Two

  ENCHANTED

  Umbria

  I can’t breathe. My heart is in my throat, and my chest is tight. Nothing in my sheltered life has prepared me for what I am seeing. My eyes slide closed, and I take in a few deep inhales, attempting to concentrate on the excitement instead of the choking fear of the unknown.

  “You sure you’ll be okay tonight?” My mother’s voice floats through my head, causing my heart to cease. She’s been gone for months, and I’m starting to forget what she looks like.

  “I’ll be fine,” I whisper in reply to her fading memory.

  Squeezing my lids closed tightly, I try to remember the way her laughter and smile lit up the room. It always provided me with a sense of comfort and home. With me, she was just Mom.

  After a brief moment, my lids flutter open again, and I take in the crumbling old stone castle in front of me. Sighing, I look up at the intimidating fortress. Just like everything else in the supernatural realms, glamour conceals the truth. This castle isn’t what it seems from the outside.

  I step through the magic hiding the restored château from mortal eyes. Once I am on the other side of the entry, the view transforms and becomes darkly breathtaking and seductive.

  An archway, flanked by two massive square towers, greets me. Feeling a bit more relaxed, I make my way into the large courtyard. A low-hanging fog with purple lights twinkling in the mist blankets the ground all around me. I follow a stone pathway leading up to two low steps.

  After making my way up them, I’m greeted with the arched entrance of the castle. A soft, low blue light hums and floats in the open doorway. As I approach, the heel of my shoe gets caught in one of the veranda’s stones, and I wobble. The unsteadiness of my balance causes me to place my hand on one of the two gargoyle statues flanking the door in order to steady myself.

  “Crap!” I yank my heel out of the crack with a hard pull.

  “You’re squeezing my balls.” A strained male voice states.

  Startled, I yelp and immediately step away from the stone statues, now apparently human.

  “What the hell?” I manage.

  “It’s okay.” One guy runs his hand over his goatee. “I can see how you’d be confused.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Confused?”

  Pointing to his crotch, he says, “They’re large and hard like stone.” The gargoyle winks, clearly pleased with himself, and straightens out his shiny red suit jacket, which is embossed with red roses. “And for the record, I love it when a stunning woman grabs my junk. Unfortunately for you, sweetheart, I’m working tonight,” he smirks. “No fun. Strictly business.”

  I open my mouth to defend myself, but the other bouncer interrupts me.

  “Bronx,” he scolds.

  Bronx slides his gaze to his identical twin. “She grabbed me, Lex. She was all up in my business.”

  “I didn’t—” I begin, but Lex holds his hand up, stopping me again.

  “Ignore my brother. He’s an asshole,” Lex says, moving his dreads—which are slightly longer than Bronx’s—off his shoulder.

  My eyes jump between the two. In the darkness of the night, their midnight irises almost get lost against their deep chocolate skin. And yet, the gargoyles’ imposing presence makes them seem even more ominous and intimidating as they stand in the shadows of the moon’s light.

  “I didn’t think gargoyles turned to stone,” I mumble, putting my shoe back on.

  “We don’t. It’s a parlor trick our host bestowed upon us for the evening,” Bronx replies.

  “Interesting.” I look around to make sure this is actually real.

  “Name?” Lex asks, sounding bored. The lapels on his matte black jacket shine when he moves.

  “Umbria. Mendoza,” I reply. I need a drink.

  Bronx smirks and shakes his head as if my name is the most amusing thing he’s heard all day.

  “Well, Umbria, it’s your lucky day,” Lex says, and motions toward the entry with his chin.

  “Imperia at Left Bar will hook you up,” Bronx adds. “Give you a little something to take the edge off.” He wiggles his brow at me, pleased with himself. “Maybe release those pretty fae wings you’re hiding.”

  “I’m not hid—” I start to lie but stop when Lex eyes me from head to toe before chuckling under his breath at my puzzlement.

  Bronx leans toward my ear. “If you need a drink, I recommend the Party In Your Mouth.”

  I move away, annoyed that he read my thoughts. Damn gargoyles and their gifts.

  “Welcome to the Monster Ball, Majesty,” Lex dismisses me, and I bristle at the title.

  Bronx nods toward the entrance. “Make yourself at home. And have some fun, Umbria.”

  I give him my best fake smile before stepping through the entrance and into the tunnel.

  Behind me, I hear Lex whisper, “Striker is certainly going to have his hands full with her.”

  Ignoring the comment and deep chuckles that follow, I make my way down the passageway.

  The farther into the tunnel I walk, the dimmer it becomes until I become engulfed in total darkness. A moment later, a haunting song begins to thump in a steady beat
, vibrating around me. The dimmest of lights flickers at the end of the passage, and with a final step, I’m transported into a grand ballroom filled with supernatural creatures dressed in gowns and tuxes.

  Each being is more beautiful than the last. And each dress is even more exquisite. It’s almost as if I’ve walked into the supernatural version of New York’s Fashion Week.

  With a smile, I take in the castle’s ornate chamber, softly lit by oversized dangling chandeliers. The corners are draped in shadowy silk curtains. Tiny pixies dance in the air, causing a glimmering effect in exotic colors on the ceiling. Creatures from all realms are casually lounging on the black Gothic leather furniture, drinking and laughing as they become lost in the enjoyment of the Monster Ball and one another.

  On both sides of the entrance are long illuminated bars. The shelves are backlit in an amethyst glow, showcasing the different types of drinks being offered to guests. After my conversation with Bronx, I decide to avoid the Left Bar and instead make my way over to the Right Bar, which at the moment has a few open spots. I slink into one, and a girl with teal eyes and matching lipstick motions at me with her chin. The porcelain sheen to her skin signals that she is fae, and I hold my breath just a bit to see if she recognizes me.

  “I’m Iridessa,” she shouts over the low hum of voices around us.

  “Umbria,” I match her tone.

  “What can I get for you, Umbria?”

  My eyes skim over the shelves as indecision hits me. “Whatever you recommend.”

  The faerie tilts her head, causing my gaze to fall onto her gray and teal ombre hair. “My specialty is a Drunk Dancing Bear. But you don’t strike me as that kind of drinker. Go see Elohir.”

  “Who?”

  She motions to a pair of silver eyes watching us with interest. “Try his Frostbite.”

  Turning my head, I look down the bar at the clean-shaven elf. His handsome face is full of sharp features and angles. When he tilts his head at me, my eyes draw up to his fauxhawk, braided on the sides and pulled into a low ponytail. I meet his gaze again; it’s kind and flirty.

  I release a light laugh and turn back to Iridessa.

  “I’m not into ice. Fire is more my speed,” I reply.

  She smiles brightly and gets busy making a concoction. After a moment, she slides a shot glass at me filled with golden liquid lit on fire. “It’s a shot of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky.”

  I eyeball the shot glass before a small smile creeps onto my lips, and I meet her knowing gaze.

  “Tastes like heaven, burns like hell.” Iridessa winks.

  I grab the shot and down it before tipping and thanking her. With a twist, I face the buzzing ballroom. It’s filled with life and excitement as more creatures arrive. Tilting my head, I watch a handsome vampire escort a female into the ball. Her strawberry blonde hair is elegantly swept up, and her pale skin is the perfect canvas to show off her Cress De Quie–designed gossamer dress.

  Even more beautiful than her dress are the diamond-and-emerald-encrusted heels, which sparkle with each step she takes as he guides her into the room. I snag a glass of passed champagne off a silver tray, and with a firm determination, I decide to go exploring.

  Hundreds of supernatural beings are scattered around the room. A huge platform sits at the front of the chamber with a band playing a mix of thumping dance music and seductive melodies, courtesy of the siren who appears to be the lead singer. “Dastardly Deeds” is written in purple neon lights across the drums, and I’m guessing it’s the name of the band on stage, playing hard.

  There are a few faces in the crowd that I recognize, like Luca Caspan. He’s dancing with a pretty girl wearing a crown. Most of the others are creatures that I’d never dare approach without Darciana’s protection. Given tonight’s earlier events, I lack the energy to start a conversation anyway. Instead, I take a sip of champagne and politely decline two offers to dance, opting to make my way outside through one of the exits by the stage. It leads me to a darkened outside area where the moon is full and bright. The large ball appears to float in the air. Its silver beams light up the castle and grounds, both of which sit on a cliff.

  I take in a deep breath, glad to escape the noise and chatter of the ball. The wind lifts, twirling my hair around my face. I grasp at the strands, trying to tame them, and step closer to the edge.

  Looking over the cliff, I lift my chin, letting the cool, misty wind soothe my skin. It feels nice, offsetting the Unseelie heat in my veins that always burns from being a Caballuca del Diablu.

  Demon fairies—I try to laugh, but it comes out as more of a strangled cough. My situation sucks too much for it to be funny. I’m the queen of a race of demon fairies. How ridiculous is that?

  I sip the last of my champagne and stare out at the dark abyss in front of me.

  “Need another?” a deep voice asks, startling me.

  Slowly, I turn and look around in the dark. Whoever it is prefers the shadows.

  “No, thanks. I was taught to get my own drinks.”

  He steps close enough that I can make out his outline.

  “I was taught that a lady should never get her own drink,” he replies.

  Tilting my head, I cross my arms and smile. “Lucky for you then, I’m not a lady.”

  “I disagree,” he replies, stepping into the moonlight.

  Whoever he is, he’s breathtaking. Tall. Muscular. Dark blond hair that’s messily styled, which seems strange against his designer tuxedo. His sapphire-blue eyes glow in the low light of the moon as they hold my gaze. The sexy angles of his face are covered with a layer of light scruff. Yeah. I’m screwed. He’s hot.

  With a seductive and knowing smirk, the stranger motions to a server with his chin. On cue, the server rushes toward me with a silver tray of champagne flutes. I place my empty glass on it and take another before the server takes a few steps back, presenting the tray to the stranger. He waves him off, declining the drink offer. With quick steps, the server leaves me alone with the handsome being.

  “I’m Striker,” he says.

  “Umbria,” I manage.

  Striker steps forward, and I drop my gaze, noticing he’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid. I point at his drink. “Brandy?” I inquire.

  “Henri IV Dudognon Heritage,” he robotically recites.

  My eyes widen. “Isn’t that like, a two-million-dollar bottle of liquor or something insane?”

  “Would it impress you if I said yes?”

  “No.”

  He chuckles softly, letting me know I wasn’t fooling him. “One of my grandfather’s hobbies is to collect and drink expensive brandy,” he states matter-of-factly. “I guess I’ve inherited his palette.”

  “How ostentatious of him.” I turn back toward the cliffs and side-eye him. “And you.”

  Striker steps fully into the moonlight, and I’m immediately caught, captivated by his beauty.

  At the same time, the playful gleam in his eye and hint of a grin on his lips annoy me.

  “When it comes to my family and me, pretention runs deep.” He isn’t rude, just stating a fact.

  “Glad I can’t say the same.” I exhale my lie.

  Striker’s smirk heightens, and I pray he doesn’t know me. “What do you say we leave pretenses at the door and simply enjoy one another’s company this evening? I mean, it is a ball.”

  I slide my focus back to the ocean below us, trying to remain calm. “If only it were that easy.”

  “Sounds like someone had a bad day.” Striker’s voice causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end with pleasure as he moves close enough to my side that our elbows brush.

  “Why are you out here in the dark?” I ask. “Drinking alone. Hiding in the shadows.” Like me.

  His lips press as he remains silent.

  A moment later I groan at his obvious lack of interest in my question. “Never mind.”

  I turn to face him and realize that it was a stupid move. The full force of his bea
uty hits me, and my breath stumbles out of me. When our eyes connect, all thoughts leave me as I stare. After a brief second, I take another sip of my champagne, hoping it will calm the shaking inside me.

  “Why are you here tonight, Umbria?” he asks, focusing on me once more.

  “I-I was invited,” I manage.

  Striker gazes down at me, apparently pleased with my answer, before he steps closer.

  “I don’t really know the host or anything. I just received the invitation and needed a fun night out. So I came.” My eyes widen, realizing how that sounded. “I came here. To the ball.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  Striker stands, watching me with a faint smile, riveting me once again. I frown at his amusement with me and swallow more champagne, suddenly made nervous by the strange conversation and interaction.

  “Though a fun night would entail dancing and mingling. Instead”—he leans in so his breath washes over my lips as he speaks—“here you are. Standing alone, on your own Isle of Darkness.”

  At the comment, I lean away. Aragon is known in the supernatural world as the Isle of Darkness. Hearing the nickname of my realm fall from Striker’s lips causes all my red flags to go up. My eyes dart around, trying to sense danger, before they land back on his blank expression.

  He watches me with a curious but stern look.

  Tilting my head to the side, I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you want, Striker?”

  Striker

  Damn, she is fucking beautiful. The photo I’ve been carrying around of her doesn’t even begin to do Umbria justice. In the moon’s light, her hair shines, and her turquoise eyes twinkle. Wherever the silvery beams land on her olive skin, it shimmers, causing my fingers to twitch with the need to touch her. To feel the smooth warmth of her skin under my fingertips.

  My gaze drops, raking over her, studying the long black dress she’s wearing. Except for a few beads and lace pieces on the top, it’s almost completely transparent, which makes it hard to focus on anything but the way her body moves under the material. It looks as though the dress is only being held together by the collar around her neck, showing off her slender shoulders.