Page 5 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

Robin had done everything he could to help her, and was fully ready to storm Oslay Hall to deliver unto Giles tenfold what he’d done to her. Instead, he’d channeled his fury into his task, stalking the upper echelons of Londoners before returning two days later with an invitation to the Orion’s Hunt.

The lace hem of her blue-tinged dress skirted against her feet, and as her exposed shoulders shuddered in the evening chill, Thalia wished she’d tried harder to get a sleeved dress. But it was a perfectly acceptable gown, empire-styled and adorned with a modest selection of pearlescent jewelry.

The mask was the most eye-catching element, almost perfectly matched with her cream-colored outfit, but it was the most ostentatious part of her. Her hair was done simply, and makeup was unnecessary due to the mask. Tonight was about blending in, slipping about undetected so she could find…

…In truth, Thalia wasn’t sure what she was in search of. The former half of the plan came quickly to her while she was still under duress; the Ton’s Devils didn’t play nicely with the Orions, and it wasn’t far-fetched to believe the gentlemen’s club had some form of dirt against their rival.

And with Giles invested in the Devils’ side, there had to be something within the Orion’s halls that could damage his reputation. But as Thalia finally entered the gentlemen’s club, her plan began to fall apart at the seams.

If all she could discover equated to idle gossip, it was less than useless to her. And if she discovered something sinister, then she’d just traded the viper’s pit for the lion’s den.

She meandered through the front hall, letting the flow of the crowd take her forward.It isn’t like I can simply ask them for help,she thought.And even if I did, why would they care?

More and more threads began to unravel as panic climbed up her throat. If she, an unescorted, dishonored woman, was discovered sneaking into a gentlemen’s club without invitation…there would be no going back from it. She was a nobody now, but to be the uninvited nobody meant complete social obliteration.

Thalia suddenly came to a halt, thrown out of her contemplative state. The crowd she’d been following had come to a stop within the main dining hall, joining what seemed to be the rest of the guests for the evening.

Members of the club stood along a makeshift stage, with a domineering figure overshadowing them all by a mile. His suit was strangely mesmerizing; not purely black, but a deep and rich navy, with silver decorations clipped to his sleeves and pinned against his chest like the stars themselves.

Even with a similarly-complex wolf mask covering his face, the man held a presence that commanded the room’s attention, without having but spoken a single word yet to the crowd. And when he did speak, it was like listening to a lyrical beast, his deep and somber tone a low howl against the moonlight night.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for our long-standing tradition here with the Ton’s Orions.” He stretched his hand outward, plucking a champagne flute from a nearby waiter’s tray.

“For those returning for the hunt, we welcome you once more. And to our newcomers…” He paused, seemingly staring directly at Thalia before lifting his glass in a faux toast. “We welcome you to explore the darker parts of yourself tonight.”

Heat flushed across Thalia’s face, and she was relieved to be wearing her mask. She had only heard whispers as to what occurred within a gentleman’s club, and the Orions were one of the more reputable organizations. Surely, they couldn’t fall too deeply into depravity? Not without the whole of London discovering their deviant ways.

“For those who have graced our halls before, you know what is to come,” the speaker continued. “And for the uninitiated, I’ll keep my explanation brief, as I sense the former party is eager to begin.”

A ripple of laughter went around the crowd, only feeding deeper into Thalia’s panic. What had she stepped into?

The speaker drained his glass in one, swift motion, and as if on cue, another server appeared at his side. Oddly, his mask was that of the rabbit, and Thalia couldn’t help but furrow her brow.

“You will find the rules quite simple for both parties. Wolves…” the speaker lifted his hand and—with a surprisingly delicate touch—rested his hand against the server’s shoulder. “Your task is to ‘chase’ after your prey within the limits of the estate.”

He deftly slipped his rose free from his vest pocket and added it to the mask’s white crown. “Claim your ‘kill’ with the rose provided at entry, then make your way back to this hall. If the hunted so chooses, she may give you her mask; a promise to remain loyal at your side for the remainder of the evening.”

Something warmed briefly in his tone, and Thalia couldn’t help but latch onto it. Even if she were imagining it, even if it was self-perceived—any form of comfort was welcome to keep her from breaking under the pressure.

“For her to make herself so vulnerable is the greatest show of trust, gentlemen.” Something cold now bit at his tone, and Thalia found herself shuddering. “You shall wait for her to hand you such a gift, should you be so lucky. And if any Orion tonight catches word of non-consensual affection between predator and prey—if you try and force her trust—you will quickly find yourself removed from the premises. Whether that is consciously or not.” His knuckles cracked loudly, sending a confusing mix of ice and heat across Thalia’s core. “That is entirely up to you.”

Nervous laughter petered away as the room turned deathly still. The tension was palpable, produced by a respected fear the speaker clearly possessed. He then removed his rose from the server’s mask, placing it back in the square fold of his vest.

“Now, rabbits.” He reached towards the server once more, only for the man to step away. “Evade capture for five minutes, and you may choose whomever you wish to have the first dance with. Tonight, you hold just as much power as what hunts you down.”

These were words Thalia hadn’t realized she needed to hear. Something about the way the speaker held himself, the way he spoke to the women of the crowd instead of around them; it pooled as tingling warmth in the center of her chest, and she found herself unable to pull away.

Once more, a flickering light appeared at the end of her tunnel, but she so desperately wished it hadn’t. She couldn’t allow herself vulnerability again. And yet, as she suddenly found him staring through her mask, Thalia felt exposed all over again.

“That is all.” The speaker produced a pocket watch from his vest, glancing at the ticking hands before giving a light shrug of his shoulders. “Run.”

* * *

Thalia desperately held her breath as she crouched behind a lounge chair, listening to the footfalls of a pair of wolves as they quickly passed through. After entirely too long, she dared to peek out from around her hiding spot, relieved to have the room to herself.

Standing upright, she took a mental note of where she’d explored so far, recalling the layout of her familial mansion to try and compare. Carefully, she stepped out of the drawing room and glanced down the hallway. Sure enough, the layout was vaguely familiar to her; perhaps the Orions had hired the same architect as her family had?

She took a few tentative steps, her foot raised in the air as a horrific squeak suddenly sounded behind her. Nearly losing her balance, she spun on her heel and found herself face-to-face—or mask-to-mask—with not just any wolf, but the speaker from before.

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