Masked Desire. Alana Delacroix

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      LYRICAL PRESS

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

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      Copyright

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      Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 Alana Delacroix

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      First Electronic Edition: April 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0362-1

      eISBN-10: 1-5161-0362-9

      First Print Edition: April 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0365-2

      ISBN-10: 1-5161-0365-3

      Printed in the United States of America

      Dedication

      For E

      Chapter 1

      Michaela Chui lifted the lid of her white-and-blue glazed teapot and poured in the water with deliberate care. Morning tea was a ritual she’d observed for as long as she could remember and it never failed to fill her with a sense of calm.

      Sometimes, though, the calm was illusory and she knew it. For the last six months, Michaela had lived with an ever-increasing sense of dread. No surprise, she thought, as she watched the pale gray leaves swirl under the tendrils of steam. The masquerada were in the final stages of mopping up what had been a nasty insurrection of chauvinists and bigots led by Franz Iverson. It was a big job and Eric Kelton had asked her to oversee it.

      The death threats had been irritating but expected.

      She glanced at her watch. Soon she’d need to leave for a meeting with her mentor, the vampire Madden. More secrets. While she wasn’t alone as a shape-shifting masquerada in a human world, her role on the Pharos Council couldn’t even be shared with Eric, her Hierarch. Charged with keeping the arcane world hidden from that of the humans, the Pharos walked unknown among their compatriots and ensured all followed the Law.

      The tea was perfect now and she stood at the window to enjoy it, relishing the familiar, almost ritual action. Her friend Caro nagged her about her painful lack of spontaneity, but Caro was young. The thought wasn’t catty or malicious; Michaela admired Caro and her strength. However, she knew living in the moment wasn’t a trait she herself had. Centuries of watching the world’s many casual cruelties had created a need to make life as predictable as possible.

      It was how she survived.

      Time to go. She sighed and focused inward for a long moment. She’d worked since childhood to master the perfect natural poise that still betrayed nothing of her inner self. Although not a physical masque, Michaela was a tougher version of the Miaoling she had been in her youth. Stronger, less vulnerable. A colder face she had created to survive the demands of life away from her family and one she now found invaluable for the arcane society in which she lived. She hadn’t allowed herself to truly embrace being Miaoling for centuries. As Michaela—suspicious where Miaoling was natural, cold where the other was warm, and deliberate rather than impulsive—she was more suited for success in this world, and she meant to succeed.

      Her drive took her south through Toronto’s downtown core, a cold valley of bank headquarters and overpriced restaurants, to a small heritage building that had been partially incorporated into a skyscraper. Even in temporary headquarters, Pharos members demanded elegant and old-fashioned surroundings with every modern convenience.

      Michaela locked the car door and was checking the handle when a soft, low growl came from behind her.

      “Councilor. You’re here early.”

      Not now. It was too early in the morning. She steeled herself to face Cormac Redoak, exiled fey, special ambassador to the Pharos Council, and world-class pain. “Ambassador,” she said briskly, heaving her bag over her shoulder.

      “May I take that for you?” Even after centuries away from the fey homeland, he still had a bit of an accent, almost but not quite Irish.