Anna's Books

03/09/2025

Chapter 3 😶😶

🪐🌘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀’𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ☄️
{His Hated Archenemy }🏞️

A Dark Romance Fantasy,
Written by Přéşħ Âłíçíâ Ðąįșÿ (KL)✍️
Rated 18+ 🔞

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𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒.
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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝟐 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝟑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐒.
•
•

LORD REVANDREL.

Revandrel returns to Naked Den, his grand brothel, seething with rage after discovering that fate has bound him to Baevera Eldareth as his bloodhost, his one true feeder.

To a Urekai, this bond should be a blessing, but to him it feels like a curse. The Eldareth name ignites his thousand-year-old thirst for vengeance.

Revandrel reflects on his past: his promise to Baevera that their third crossing would mark her downfall, his restraint from killing her family centuries ago, and the revenge plan he has been perfecting ever since.

Instead of killing her, he decides on a far crueler punishment. Forcing Baevera to become the Red Mask again. The legendary courtesan she once was, but this time as his property, with no dignity and no pay.

His goal is to humiliate her publicly, crush her name, destroy her wealth and reputation, and make her an unwilling symbol of his triumph.

Raging and starving, he spends the night feeding on and bedding multiple lovers until his bloodlust is satisfied, then begins plotting how to break Baevera completely.

•••

LADY BAEVERA

Baevera is held captive in Revandrel’s underground dungeon. Days blur together as she is left starving, chained, and humiliated.

His guards “bathe” her through brutal waterboarding sessions, dragging her out of her cell and submerging her until she chokes.

But Baevera refuses to scream or beg.

She has trained for centuries, knowing this day might come. She steels her body and mind against pain, determined to endure whatever he throws at her. So long as he never touches her s*xually.

•

Eventually, Revandrel visits her cell. Their encounter is cold and tense. He makes it clear that:

He will never drink from her blood, even if it means waiting for a new bond to form and risking his own life.

1.He plans to ruin her utterly, taking her docks, fleets, and entire legacy.

2.And worst of all, he will force her to work at Naked Den, selling her body as entertainment for the highest bidders.

3.Baevera is horrified.

She begs, pleads, and even offers torture in place of this humiliation, but Revandrel remains unmoved.

He taunts her about her past as Red Mask, threatening to reveal her identity to the world if she refuses.

These chapter ends with Revandrel leaving her shattered, warning her to prepare for the exhibition in three days…when she will be put on public display and forced back into the role she thought she had buried centuries ago.

03/09/2025

🪐🌘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀’𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ☄️
{His Hated Archenemy }🏞️

A Dark Romance Fantasy,
Written by Přéşħ Âłíçíâ Ðąįșÿ (KL)✍️
Rated 18+ 🔞

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 : To answer a frequent question I saw in the comments of the prologue:

Yes, these characters are Urekai, and this story does take place in the Urekai lands. But, it is NOT connected to Beast’s Slave (Daemonikai and Emeriel’s story).

Beast’s Slave focused on the Urekai monarchy and the political affairs of the kingdom, while this story dives into the business and merchant world, as well as the brothels.

The monarchy does NOT come in here. So, put Beast’s Slave and all its characters out of your mind and step into this story with a whole new mind.

That’s why I said, it can be read as a stand-alone. Because it is, in all sense of the word, a completely new story of its own.

Now, delve in 👇
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•
•
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐂𝐄𝐋’𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍: 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓.

Five Years Later.


LADY BAEVERA.

“I still cannot believe a blood bond finally formed for you after all these years. I was beginning to think it might never happen!” Helory squealed once again.

I huffed, casting her a side glance where she lay sprawled across the bed like an overexcited child.

Around us, my maids moved like shadows; fastening clasps, adjusting pins, and smoothing silks as they dressed me in my ceremonial gown.

I slipped my arms gracefully through the sleeves they held open.

“Don’t look at me like that, young lady,” Helory clapped her hands, kicking her feet. “I am just so excited! At over a thousand years old, I am fairly certain you are the last blood-virgin in all of Vallen Falls—possibly even all of Urai. Most of us were bloodhosts before we reached three hundred. It is such a thrilling thing, Bae. I am giddy for you!”

“I am excited too.” And I truly am.

Helory sat upright. “By the Goddess, you are so beautiful.”

“Oh, please,” I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Though I must admit, this silk is very flattering.”

“Of course it is. Everything looks exquisite on you,” she snapped her tongue. “Some days, half of Vallen Falls and I wonder if Ukrae set aside an entire separate day just to create you. The perfection is glaring, and frankly, a little bit offensive. You make the rest of us feel woefully inadequate.”

I gave her a flat look. Helory was the reigning queen of flattery.

“I just wish you would stop staining that fiery red hair of yours black," she lamented, mourning my hair like she had for centuries. "It is one of your loveliest features.”

I cannot do that.” I hated the color red with a passion, and Helory knew it. I would gladly dye my hair black all my life, if it meant I never have to look upon the vivid red strands ever again.

She sighed softly. “I understand.” Leaning in a little, her tone dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “So you wonder what he will be like? Your bloodmaster, I mean.”

As she continued, she had a dreamy smile. “I hope he is handsome, rich, and unmated. If you are going to be saddled with a male who gets to drink your blood for the rest of your life, the least the gods can do is make him pleasing to look at.”

“I do not care for such things,” I told her.

“Well, I do,” Helory stated, without shame. “You were specific in your letter, right? About the meeting place?”

“Let us meet beneath the Union Tree, within the woods of Perching Hollow, as the sun begins its descent, at the fourth bell,” I recited.

“Perfect. Very poetic.” She nodded in approval. “This is exactly the kind of thrill you need in your life. You are always shut up in this big, boring manor, stepping out only for business, living the life of a cloistered old maid when you are arguably the most stunning female in the city. I worry about you, you know. Every day. But finally, the gods have heard me.”

“I do just fine,” I protested.

“Oh, please. If not for Lord Philip’s occasional visits, your life would be as lonely as they come.” She grinned, hopeful. “Who knows, maybe the bloodfeeding will awaken something in you, and you may begin to feel s*xual arousal again. Real lust, Bae. Not the shallow imitation that vanishes the second their fangs leave your skin.”

I slid my foot into my shoes as she rambled enthusiastically.

“Then again, those others were not your bloodmaster, but this one is. Once the bond is sealed through his first feeding, you will officially become his bloodhost. And when you start to feel lust again, you can finally consummate your love with Lord Phillip! You two would perform the bonding ritual and be mates for life!” She finished with a high, delighted squeal.

Oh gods. Exasperated, I shook my head.

But butterflies stirred in my belly. A lady could hope.

Before my Phillip, I had long since resigned myself to the fate of being one of those Urekai females who might very well die alone.

How was I supposed to find my lifemate when I have not felt even the faintest spark of attraction in what felt like an eternity?

Love was a foreign concept to me, and so was s*xual desire. I do not feel lust. Have not in centuries.

That night, five years ago, I could not go through with my seduction.

I entered Phillip’s room, chickened out, and bolted to the nearest lavatory to empty my belly into it.

That makes thirteen years since I met the love of my life, but I still could not give him my body. And centuries since I have had s*x.

So, I guess I understand why my usually composed best friend was practically unhinged over the unexpected blood bond I woke up to yesterday.

While the idea of some random male sinking his fangs into me and drinking my blood whenever he pleased did not exactly appeal to me, it stirred something I hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

Hope.

Because a common, natural side effect of bloodfeeding was s*xual arousal. Whether the male deliberately released pheromones to intensify the lust or not, it always made one h***y. Always.

And I was counting on it.

It did not matter that I had tried being a feeder many times in the past and only ever felt a shallow, strange imitation of desire. It was even worse when I was the one doing the drinking.

Both times, whatever flare of sensation I got vanished the moment the fangs withdrew, leaving me emptier than before. So, I gave up.

But now… now there was hope again.

Because, like Helory said, those males were not my bloodmaster. This one is. There is a blood bond between us.

Maybe things will be different now.

Maybe, just maybe, I could finally be normal again.

•••••

“We are here, My Lady,” the coachman announced as the carriage rolled to a smooth halt.

I stared at the entrance of the woods ahead, not moving an inch.

“Bae?” Helory called.

“Mmm?”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

I was. Gods, I was. But I did not say a word.

“There is nothing to worry about,” she said gently, knowingly. “If you do not want the feedings to be s*xual, you can set that boundary. Keep it formal, platonic, even mechanical. He is the one who needs you. His life depends on drinking your blood. You hold all the power here, Bae. Set the terms, and he will abide by them.”

The knot in my belly loosened, if only slightly. “You are right.”

“Of course I am right. I am always right.” Helory gave me a reassuring smile. “So, stop eyeing the woodpath like you expect it to morph into a giant werewolf, and get going. Your bloodmaster awaits.”

Okay, I can do this. With a deep breath, I stepped down from the carriage and entered the narrow-wooded path.

The Union Tree stood in the clearing like a guardian from an age long gone. Two massive trunks fused into one, entwined like ancient lovers. I stepped beneath its sprawling boughs and looked around.

Empty.

Trees stretched endlessly in every direction, but no one waited. Was he late? Or had I arrived too soon?

Just a little while. If he does not show, I will leave, and we will reschedule.

Decision made, I leaned against the fused trunk and waited.

I did not have to wait long.

The air shifted. Something changed, and I knew I was not alone anymore.

My eyes caught movement between the trees: a figure. Then another. And another. So many bodyguards.

I straightened slowly, turning in a slow, full circle. More figures emerged between the trees, forming a loose perimeter around the woods.

Well, at least my bloodmaster was a person of power. Maybe even nobility, like myself. That certainly made things easier.

But, just then, unease crept over me, prickling my skin. The hairs on my arms rose.

And the scent of emberwood hit me.

No.

Oh gods, no.

He was not the only male whose natural scent was emberwood. It could not be him. It must not be.

Heavens, please. Anyone else but him.

The figure came into view, and I stopped breathing.

It was indeed him. Revandrel Orionas Cel’theren.

Rich as the devil, handsome as sin, and tall as a tower, with shoulders as broad as a mountain’s base. A force to be reckoned with.

The male solely behind the vast Cel’theren empires scattered across Urai and its ancient cities.

He was also ruthless, calculating, merciless, and cruel. And more than all that, he hated me.

In fact, hate was too small a word. Far too mild and civilized for his feelings toward me.

At 1,320 years old, I was no stranger to being despised. I had known dislike, resentment, even deep-rooted loathing, but none came close to what this male projected at me.

Only in those cold, satanic gray eyes have I seen hatred in its rawest, truest form. Coated with venom and seething with spite.

As he spotted me, he froze.

“You,” he snarled. “What in the devils is this?”

The last time our paths had crossed, I had run. Dignity be damned, grace forgotten, I had grabbed my skirts and bolted like a wild thing.

He caught me anyway.

This time, I did not move. I could not. Because the truth hit me like a blow to the chest.

A blood bond had formed between us. Revandrel Orionas Cel’theren was my bloodmaster.

“This cannot be,” I whispered, completely horrified.

“Baevera fu***ng Eldareth,” he growled, striding toward me. “Why the hell would you darken this sacred path with your filthy presence? The Union Tree deserves better than the likes of you. What the f**k are you doing here and where the hell is my new bloodhost?”

“Oh gods, it cannot be.” I had always known our third meeting was inevitable. I just hadn’t expected it to be today.

A lifetime spent avoiding him. Yet here we were.

I saw the exact moment he realized what I already did.

“You? My new bloodhost?” Revandrel is eyes flared with disbelief. Then fury took over. “Over. My. Dead. Body.”

“I did not choose this,” I tried to keep my voice calm, but it was shaking. I was panting. “This cannot be happening.”

He pinned me with a very spiteful glare. This male who had earned many names over the centuries.

The Coin Master. Whisperer of Gold. Ruthless Lender of Ruin. Dread Lord. Cunning Serpent. Bloodthirsty Gladiator. I had heard them all.

But once, long ago, he had only one name to me. Revandrel… Evan.

My stepbrother.

Though not by blood, nor by birth, but by circumstance.

The boy who once glared at me with so much contempt: tearful, stuttering, small, had become this towering predator who struck fear and awe into nobles and trade barons alike.

That fragile boy was gone. In his place stood a cold-hearted, merciless Urekai with so many reputations it was difficult to keep count.

“I warned you,” he stalked to me with disgust twisting his handsome face. “Our paths must never cross a third time.”

“I did not create this bond.”

“No. Fate did.” His tone dropped to something calm. Too calm. “They knew it was time for my revenge. And like a sacrificial lamb, they brought you to me.”

He gripped my cheek, tilting my face until our eyes locked. I could not look away.

“When I am done with you, Baevera Eldareth,” he murmured, “you will wish this day never came.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand lift and a flash of metal. A pin?

I panicked. “Wait—”

“And even if you were the last female on earth, I would never drink from you,” he snarled.

The world went dark.
WATCH OUT FOR EPISODE 2.✍️
Are you ready for this ride? 🔥
What do you think?
Let’s hear it in the comment session below 👇

03/09/2025

Let's get started on another series guys
Warning ⚠️ only for those with a strong heart

🪐🌘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀’𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ☄️
{His Hated Archenemy }🏞️

A Dark Romance Fantasy,
Written by Přéşħ Âłíçíâ Ðąįșÿ (KL)✍️
Rated 18+ 🔞

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

𝑨 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: This story can be read as a standalone. Which means, you don’t have to read any previous story of mine in other to follow seamlessly.

𝑨 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: This story contains dark themes, angst, and may even venture into pitch black territory. If you are a sensitive reader, this book may not be for you. Please thread carefully.
•
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄:

In a world filled with various species; werewolves, vampires, fae, witches, humans, and more—the Urekai stood apart as one of the most powerful of them all.

And to tell you a little about them, you should know; like werewolves, they could shift into beast form. Like vampires, they drank blood. And moved unnoticed among humankind.

The Urekai lived a long, near-endless lives with memories that stretched across centuries. Possessing a heightened sense of sight, smell, and hearing, and were also known for their highly s*xual nature.

But for all their strength and pleasures, meeting their true soulmate, or even a compatible match, was incredibly difficult for them. Yet many held onto hope of one day finding a mate destined for them.

And should you cross them, remember this well: their memories are eternal, their grudges immortal.

To provoke a Urekai is to seal your fate, for they never forget. And they always collect.

•
•

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎:

Running from him is all I know. All I am.

Over a millennia, and not once have I lived without looking over my shoulder.

Some days, I wonder if it would have been better had he caught me long ago, claimed his revenge, and ended it.

If I had lived through it, maybe I could have stolen a handful of peaceful years. Perhaps, ten years of freedom and happiness. That alone would mean more to me than my entire existence.

Some days, I wonder what my life might have been if I had never met Revandrel Orionas Cel’theren.

If the ever-present shadow in my life had never been cast. He clings to me like a fungus in my hair, unwelcome and impossible to rid.

Yes, I wish I had done things differently. So much I would change if only the ticking hand of the clock tocked backwards.

Some days, guilt outweighs fear. Other days, hatred does.

Some days, I ache to atone for my sins. Other days, survival is all that drives me.

Some days, I long to spit in his face. On others, I imagine cradling his icy cheeks, staring into those satanic gray eyes, and begging for his forgiveness.

But this was never about what I want. It’s about what the future holds.

Or perhaps, this is his revenge. The fear. This never-ending dread.

Living a half-life spent watching, waiting, never knowing when he will strike. Perhaps this hollow existence is the price I was meant to pay.

But no.

Revandrel is still out there. Waiting and lurking.

Death, in its own chilling way, might be the only salvation left.

And I pray it finds me before he does.

.

—𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙅𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡 𝙀𝙡𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙝.
•
•
•
•
•
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

FIVE YEARS AGO.

𝑼𝒓𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒊 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅: 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔, 𝑼𝒓𝒂𝒊.

LADY BAEVERA.

“Are you sure you are ready to do this? If you walk through that door, there will be no going back.”

I swallowed hard. Be still, my pounding heart.

“Bae?” my best friend’s voice came again.

“Mm?” I eyed the oak door like I expected it to sprout wings and attack me.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath before turning to face my best friend, Lady Helory of House Cinx. The worried look on her face was not helping.

She took my hands in hers. “Your hands are cold and clammy,” she murmured, blowing warm air over them. “You are not ready, Baevera.”

“It has been eight years.” I stared at my trembling fingers. “Phillip is my betrothed, and he has courted me for eight long years without laying a finger on me. If we are going to have any chance at the bonding ritual, we must be intimate. This needs to be done.”

“Yet you dread walking through that door so much, you look paler than a ghost.”

“I will never be ready, Helory.” I gave a weak, self-deprecating smile. “I have not been for over seven centuries. I will not miraculously be ready now. But I need to do it anyway.”

I glanced at the closed door. “Maybe this is the push I needed. I love Phillip, and I want to be his mate. I want the bonding ritual to work, because of that, I must do this. You understand, right?”

Helory looked even sadder as she gently cupped my cheek. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, sweetheart?”

I grimaced, staring down at the soft, revealing night garment I had slipped into for this seduction scheme.

Phillip had no idea what I planned. He was probably fast asleep by now, lost in the peace of dreams.

But tonight had to happen.

I had been planning it for weeks, hoping to surprise him. And because Helory knew how difficult all this was for me, she had stayed by my side all day, helping me bathe, dress, and hold myself together.

It was just unfortunate that my wits and determination now chose to abandon me right here at the door before the last barrier separating me from my betrothed.

It is just s*x. I just have to get through it.

Only, it was not as simple as that.

I had so much to lose if the night went wrong.

If I seduced him but could not carry it through, I might lose the male I love. And worse, he will find out my secret.

As terrifying as the thought of losing him is, it did not come close to the thought of him knowing what I truly am.

“It is now or never, Bae,” Helory whispered. “But I want you to know… whether you walk through that door or not, I am behind you. One hundred percent.”

I gave her the best smile I could manage in the moment, which was not much. “Thank you, Hills. You are a good friend.”

Then, taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the handle and twisted it. The heavy oak door opened without a sound.

I stepped inside.

***

LORD REVANDREL.

I stepped into Pleasur’io, one of the pleasure houses in the city, where bass-heavy music blasted from above and the air smelled of sweat, smoke, and lust.

Males shouted, wh**es danced, and laughter spilled through the floors.

Eyes followed me the moment I entered, especially the idle wh**es lounging in the corners, eager for customer and coin.

They got my perpetual black scowl in return.

That alone sent this message clearer than the bodyguards following me: do not come close.

If I were here for pleasure, I might have bothered to look more approachable. But I was not, so I did not.

We took the private corridor, bypassing the mess and music.

Vincent Loran, my ever-efficient overseer, moved ahead as we neared the secured wing, stopping in front of the guards stationed at the grand double doors.

“We would like to see Merchant Lord Jolan Kolls.” Vincent said evenly.

The guards gave us the once-over, unimpressed. “Do you have an appointment?”

“We do not.”

The broader of the two crossed his arms. “Then you will have to return another day. Our master meets strictly by appointment.”

“That will not be possible,” Vincent replied coolly. “Your master will want to see mine. Just go in and tell him.”

The first guard bristled. “Our master is currently with the High Magister of Coins and Commerce,” the title rolled off his tongue with far too much reverence. “This is not the time.”

“My master does not like to wait,” Vincent snapped then. “And if you understood who he is, you would know neither your master nor the High Magister would want to keep him waiting.”

The guard’s brow rose almost to his hairline. “And who, exactly, is your master?”

“Merely Cel’theren,” I said flatly, tired of the useless exchange. My voice dropped into a slow drawl. “Inform Kolls that Cel’theren is here to see him.”

Recognition dawned instantly. Their eyes shot wide.

Both snapped into immediate bows so deep their noses nearly scraped the floor.

“My lord! Forgive us, we had no idea—“ one said.

“It is an honor, truly—” the other added.

Their overlapping voices was giving me a headache.

The broader one tried to speak above the other. “I will go in there immediately and announce your—”

“Never mind.” I moved past them. “I will do it myself.”

They practically stumbled out of my way. I grabbed the doors and pushed them open hard enough to shake the hinges.

The chatter inside stopped.

At the far end of the lavish chamber, Jolan Kolls turned at the noise, eyes flashing with irritation… until he saw me.

He gasped, leaping to his feet so quickly his chair scraped against the floor with an ugly screech.

“Lord Revandrel! What a pleasant surprise!” He sounded shocked and way too eager. Then gestured toward the robed man beside him. “I am sure you recognize Lord Cyrus—”

“Of course, who does not know the High Magister?” I said smoothly. “But I am afraid I will have to steal his time. I need to speak with you. I am sure the Cyrus will not mind.” I turned my gaze to him. “Will you?”

“Not at all.” Rising from his seat, the High Magister retrieved his hat and headed for the door. “We will continue our discussion another time, Merchant Lord.”

Jolan raised his voice after him. “Yes, yes, I will send a messenger bird with the details!”

I slammed the door shut behind the High Magister.

Now alone, Kolls sat, smiling widely at me like a male who did not know whether to offer wine or whip out his favorite underwear for an autograph. “Lord Revandrel, what an honor. To what do I owe this visit?”

I walked slowly to the chair the Magister had vacated and sat, settling into it like I owned the place. Leaning back, I pinned him with a stare.

“You are a difficult man to pin down,” Kolls continued when I remained silent, laughing nervously. “I have spent years trying to meet with you. I have a business proposition I believe—”

“I am afraid that will have to wait,” my tone was flat. “I am here on my own business. And I intend to get straight to the point.”

“Sure, sure, of course, by all means,” Kolls settled forward with an attentive look.

“I want your first ten,” I said bluntly, “specifically the first five: Red, Blue, Green, White, and Yellow.”

There it was, the end of his smile.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. So predictable.

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking so uncomfortable like someone had replaced his chair with a bed of nails. “You know I cannot do that. You, of all people, know a good businessman never reveals his secrets.”

“I know,” I said calmly with a nod. “And I also know this: you want to expand your guild. You want more economic power. Political influence. Social leverage. You are struggling with your black market operations. Your contraband relics never make it past the third tollhouse before they are seized. Your tavern chains are choking because you cannot secure wine from the right sources. How good am I doing so far?"

He lowered his head, chagrined.

"All of this is why you have been trying to get a meeting with me for how long now?” I tilted my head slightly. “Twenty-five years?”

“Thirty-five,” he muttered.

I gave a single nod. “You want my help. You want into my good graces. You want to do business with me. Well, I am finally listening because now you have something I want.”

He tensed, wary.

“I want the identities of your very first ten girls. The ones who built Pleasur’io. Who wore the red, blue, green, white, and yellow masks. Especially the Red Mask.”

His broad shoulders slumped.

I continued. “Even after seven centuries, Pleasur’io is still known as 'The Brothel of the Red Mask'. That legacy is the only reason your name still has weight and your pocket has not dried completely." I stated bluntly, what he already knew. "Pleasur’io is all that stands between you and total failure.”

I paused. Let it sink in. “In exchange for those files... I will lend you my name.”

His pale face looked stunned first. Then, incredulous. “You would really do that?”

I raised a ‘wait’ hand. “Do not get ahead of yourself. There will be conditions. But yes, I will.”

His mouth parted slightly, and for once, he did not speak right away. He actually looked thoughtful.

“Forgive me for asking, my lord,” he said slowly, “but is it really that important to you? I mean, I understand the other barons and merchant lords—gods, the number of offers I have refused over the centuries—but you?”

He looked genuinely puzzled. “You are the Cel’theren. You have power, wealth and influence. You have never shown much interest in your brothels, making them the runt of your empire. So why this? Why now?”

“That is none of your concern,” I said evenly. “So. Will you accept my offer or not?”

His face said yes before his mouth ever moved. The flicker in his eyes, the greed, the need… he was already calculating what doors my name would open.

But there was also hesitation.

He swallowed hard. “Must the Red Mask be included?”

Ah, of course. She was the jewel in his empire. His goldmine. His ghost.

Her hidden identity was his greatest secret.

“Especially her.”

He winced. “I made a vow. An agreement with her, long ago. When she left, when her contract ended, I swore never to reveal her identity. I have never broken that oath. Ever.”

I merely watched him in silence.

“She was different from the others.” Still uncomfortable as f**k, he added. “See, I will gladly give you the others, all nine of them. But not her. Please, can we exclude her?”

“Time’s up.” I stood. “Nice to meet you, Merchant Jolan Kolls.” I headed for the door.

“No, wait!”

I stopped. Turned.

“I will give you everything you need! Just, please, wait here!” he blurted before scrambling to his feet. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he disappeared through the door on the right.

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

I walked back and reclaimed my seat, letting myself relax again.

***

Moments later, a stack of aged files lay open before me, spread across the table like a tribute. Names. Faces. Records. And proof.

I skimmed through them methodically.

A few of the females were Urekai, but the rest were mostly Succubi.

No surprises there. They had to be Succubi; the specie known for their s*xual prowess, in order to pull off the kind of reputations they had.

But I knew what I was looking for, exactly who I needed to find. I opened the last folder. The one labeled Red Mask.

And the world... stopped.

I stared.

My heart did not pound. My breathing did not hitch. But something cold slid through my veins like poison.

My eyes snapped up. “No. That cannot be right.” Rage filled me. “How dare you try to dupe me?”

“I would never, Lord Cel’theren,” Kolls insisted, hands raised in quick defense. “She is the Red Mask.”

I pointed to the parchment. “Lady Baevera Sevriel Eldareth?” I said the name out loud, slowly. “Only daughter of the late Supreme Lord Magmus Duskbane Eldareth, the Grand Magnate of House Eldareth... that Lady Baevera?”

“The one and the same,” he confirmed quietly. And for some reason, the bastard actually looked guilty.

Things rarely got to me anymore. When you have lived the way I have, seen the things I have seen, very little has the power to shake you. Even less confuses you.

And yet, I just sat there, staring at her name, written in clean, elegant ink across old parchment. Waiting for it to shimmer… shift… correct itself. For the ink to swirl and reveal the real name underneath.

It did not.

Baevera fu***ng Eldareth is Red Mask.

I shoved the fury back down, hard. I could not let it cloud my thoughts. I had to process this.

Prim, proper, cold as an icicle and proud as a fu***ng peacock, Baevera?

The female I hated more than anyone else in this cursed world.

The prey running from me, avoiding my path for over a thousand years.

The spitfire heir to the Eldareth dynasty, that Baevera was the infamous w***e behind the Red Mask?

I blinked once. Twice.

For the first time in centuries, I was completely stunned.

And, gods help me, genuinely confused. It really does not make any sense.

What the actual f**k?
WATCH OUT FOR EPISODE 1: CEL’THEREN: A NAME THAT BELONGS IN THE PAST.
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