Page 175 of Psycho Pack

"This is a masquerade ball, right?" Whiskey asks. "So we'll need masks, too?"

"They're over here," says Plague, gesturing to the shelves on a far wall. Dozens of intricate masks cover the wall from one end to the other, ranging from simple black masks to elaborate full-face creations adorned with jewels, feathers, and precious metals. Some are expensive enough to be housed in glass cases.

I've always been drawn to masks, but I've never seen anything like these in person. The idea of actually wearing one, of transforming myself into someone else for a night, is admittedly kind of thrilling in spite of the nature of the mission and the level of danger the pack is going to be in.

"Pick whichever mask catches your eye," Plague murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "Price is no object, of course."

I glance at him, startled. It's easy to forget sometimes that he's actual royalty, that money means nothing to him, and the realization is a little jarring. But then I catch the soft look in his eyes, the way he's drinking in my excitement, and it stops mattering.

Whiskey, predictably, dives right in. He makes a beeline for a section of more dramatic masks, holding up one after another with glee with zero regard to fragility. "Check this one out," he calls, donning a dark red mask with black obsidian gems adorned with curving horns. It leaves his lower face uncovered. "How do I look?"

"Like a bull in a china shop," Valek drawls, but there's amusement dancing in his silver eyes. "Fitting, really."

Whiskey's grin widens beneath the mask. "Perfect. I'll take it."

Thane approaches the masks with his usual methodical focus. He selects a stark white mask that covers his eyes and the bridge of his nose. It's simple, elegant, a striking contrast against his dark hair and strong features.

"Not picking a skull?" Whiskey asks, clearly surprised.

"That would be too obvious," Thane says flatly, glancing pointedly at Whiskey's eye-catching mask.

Valek, true to form, goes for the most dramatic option available. He emerges from behind a display wearing a mask shaped like the face of a venomous snake, all iridescent scales and gleaming fangs.

"Subtle," Plague mutters, already wearing a black mask adorned with a smattering of tiny shimmering gems the same inky shade as his hair.

As Wraith combs over the masks, checking them out without touching them as if he's afraid he'll break something, I turn my attention back to the wall of masks, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by the choices. By the time he selects a full face jetblack wolf mask that covers his scars, I'm already back to square one, trying to find something that suits me.

That's when I see it.

A white rabbit mask, its tall ears adorned with delicate gold filigree. The eyes are framed by swirling crimson designs that remind me of flames. Without thinking, I reach for it. The inside is lined with soft velvet, and it fits perfectly, as if it was made for me.

I turn to face the others, suddenly shy. "What do you think?"

For a moment, they all just stare. Then Whiskey lets out a low whistle. "You're gonna start a full-blown riot looking like that."

It's impossible to help preening a little at the hunger I see in all their eyes. Even Wraith, who's been unusually quiet throughout this whole process, is watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle, his blue eyes burning behind the smooth, angular features of his wolf mask.

I turn back to the mirror, adjusting the rabbit mask slightly. The crisp white and red markings around the eyes really do bring out the fire in my hair, making it look like living flame in the soft light of the shop.

For a moment, I barely recognize myself.

This is fun.

It's dangerous and it shouldn't be, but it's fun.

"What's next?" I ask, removing the mask with a little bit of reluctance and facing my alphas again. I should probably be tired after everything that's happened, but right now, I feel like I could go all day.

"There's a shop across the street that specializes in omega goods," Plague replies once he finds his voice again. "I thought you might like to take a look."

My heart skips a beat at the suggestion. I've never shopped for myself before, let alone for things specifically designed for omegas. I think back to the lavish supplies the alphas broughtme to make a nest back at the Chateau, and how I chose to forego them for the rough, rudimentary materials I was used to.

But somehow, it feels different now.

Everything does.

After bagging our disguises, we file out of the store and I glance over at the shops across the street. I spot the omega shop immediately. It's incredibly obvious with the gilded omega symbol above the doors. The storefront is a work of art in itself, all gleaming white marble and intricate gold filigree. Gauzy curtains drift in the breeze, offering glimpses of the treasures within.

Fabrics, pillows, decorations…

---