I was lost in a sea of ghostly masks, and for a split second, I couldn’t breathe at the sight of all the people filling the ballroom at Whisper Falls Inn. Coming to the party was a huge risk—which was sort of the point. It was also grating on my rebellion against every commercial thing about this stupid holiday. And to top it off, I’d somehow been convinced to wear a formal dress. “For the mission,” Rhys had insisted. “To really sell this we have to blend in,” he’d added. I’d shot back that if we really were doing this for the mission, it meant full sleeves to hide my tattoos and a wig to cover my hair. But even with all that, Rhys had stared at me the entire drive over, and I wondered if his reasons hadn’t been more selfish. Either way, we were here now. With any luck, we wouldn’t need to stay long.

Beside me, Rhys was silent as he surveyed the crowded room from the entryway. We were what Aelwyn would have called “fashionably late,” which meant soft music was already playing from the orchestra in the corner. Couples were already swaying to the song. And well-dressed waiters wandered between milling guests, offering hors d’oeuvres. A familiar face caught my eye—the only face not wearing a full white mask. Our hostess, Michaela Petran, was fast approaching us. She wore a forced smile wide enough I thought her face would crack.

“Gwen Facharro, holy shit! I can’t believe you’re here! And Rhys. So glad you guys could make it. Nice to see you two together.” She added more emphasis on the last word than was necessary, but I didn’t argue.

“Thanks for having us,” Rhys said, a lot less enthusiastically than Michaela. “What do we need to do, exactly?”

“Well, first off, you both need masks.” She thrust white masks at each of us, still grinning.

“And why is that, exactly?” I asked.

Rhys shot me a scowl. I knew I shouldn’t question this. It was one of the reasons we’d chosen this venue to lure our dark fae out of hiding—the masks. The anonymity. But I couldn’t go quietly, apparently.

“Love goes beyond what we can see on the outside,” Michaela explained. “Cupid’s aim strikes at the heart—that’s how you know it’s true love.”

I did my best to hold in the snort. I didn’t disagree with the sentiment; true love was about much more than looks. But the idea that these silly arrows could help someone find their soul mate was such a gimmick. Everyone knew love spells weren’t real.

“Got it,” I mumbled.

Rhys stayed silent.

We each took our masks and slid them on. I adjusted mine carefully so that I could see out of the tiny eye-holes, but the visibility wasn’t great. My muscles tensed as I realized spotting our guy before he attacked was going to be even harder without peripheral vision.

“And here are your arrows.” Michaela held out two white arrows trimmed in gold, one for each of us.

Rhys grabbed his and nodded at Michaela. “Thanks.”

I took mine gingerly. Michaela smiled at that and winked. “When their aim is true, they’ll light up for you. Follow the arrow’s tip to your special lover’s lips.”

I blinked. Was she for real?

Rhys shifted. “Um, thanks.”

Michaela herded us inside. “Happy kissing,” she called as we walked off.

I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard her. She was becoming more and more like her old bubbly high-school self, whom I’d never been a fan of.

Rhys let me lead the way, and I wove through the guests toward the bar at the far end of the room. If I had to be here, I needed a stiff drink, that was for sure. Skirts swished at my feet, and people in masks murmured hellos as we weaved in and out of the bodies. Rhys stayed close on my heels, and I knew he was nervous about the anonymity. But it was the best idea we’d had, and Elsmed had actually endorsed it when I’d insisted on pitching it to him last night. In fact, he had assured us he’d have a security team stationed around the room, too, including two gargoyles I’d never met, but who made excellent protectors, according to Rhys. And, of course, Michaela had been alerted that there was a possibility of an arrest tonight. She didn’t know we were involved, and I was glad for that. I’d hate to be the one to ruin her party. From the looks of it, she’d put a lot of effort into this night, her first big event since taking over the inn.

If I thought the town square had been lavish, this was opulent. White roses were everywhere. In the centerpieces for the standing tables, draped from the stage, and hovering above us along the walls, held in place by some sort of magic—or really strong duct tape. And carefully placed among all the white were pops of red. Roses, silks, and even mixed in among the glassware, everywhere I looked, the red grabbed at me. It was supposed to be classy romance, I was sure. But it reminded me too much of the blood dripping from my hands as I’d kneeled over Aelwyn’s body.

“Gwen?”

I blinked, snapping back to the party as if the whole thing had reappeared out of thin air. Rhys was waiting, and I wracked my brain, trying to recall what he’d just said. “Um, wine?”

It was, thankfully, the right answer.

Rhys nodded and turned back to the bartender. I scanned the room, forcing myself to breathe evenly and focus on the moment at hand. Elsmed promised his men would be here, but so far, no one was standing out as possible undercover agent. Everyone seemed to be here for drinks and kisses—and there were plenty of both to go around.

I thought of the weapons we’d smuggled inside—several of them worn in the form of fresh ink against our skin—and hoped they would be enough. Or that our dark fae would show up at all. Maybe kissing strangers wasn’t his thing.

We got our drinks and then wandered to the edge of the room. I felt a lot better with my back against the wall, and I suspected Rhys would too.

“Do you think he’ll come?” I asked, facing the crowd, constantly searching the anonymous faces for some sign of our killer.

“I think if he does, we’ll be ready for him,” Rhys said quietly. I’d been amazed at the sheer amount of knives he’d managed to attach and conceal on his body before we’d left. How he could walk like that, while still bending his knees, was pretty impressive. Still, I’d seen enough damage left by this guy to be nervous for Rhys. For both of us.

“I thought I’d recognize more people. I thought they’d have their masks off by now,” I said, irritated by the lack of recognition for people I’d literally grown up around.

“You just have to look for other markers,” Rhys assured me. “See there? The woman with short, silver hair?” He pointed. “That’s Jetta Mills. And there? The purple hair? That’s Julianna Fairchild.”

“Yeah. Okay, that makes sense. I see it now.” I forced a deep breath in, then out slowly.

“Look for those clues,” Rhys encouraged. “And if you see anything strange, let me know.”

For a few minutes, we watched and quietly pointed out when we each recognized someone in the crowd. The sight of the familiar figures made me feel a little better until I remembered our guy could literally be any of them now.

Rhys finished his drink, and a waiter appeared to take his empty glass. I handed him mine, still half-full. I couldn’t drink when I was already so tightly wound.

“Don’t scratch it,” I said quietly when the waiter was gone. “It’ll draw attention.”

Rhys dropped his hand from where he’d been rubbing at a spot on his arm through his suit jacket. I watched his hand fall to his side and then let my gaze trail up his arms to his chest and back down again. My thoughts wandered to last night; the ink I’d given him and then the part that came after . . .

“Are you checking me out again?”

I jerked my gaze back to his and could just barely make out his eyes through his mask’s holes. They were crinkled in silent amusement.

“I’m checking to make sure your bandages haven’t leaked through to your shirt,” I said stiffly.

“Uh-huh. We both know your ink didn’t draw enough blood for that,” he said, clearly trying to bait me. “You’re too good at what you do.”

“Fine. I was checking you out,” I admitted, softened by the compliment. “You look pretty nice in a suit.”

“You look pretty nice all the time,” he shot back. “Especially naked on my couch. But tonight, in that—” He nodded at the white gown I wore. “You look like an angel.”

I snorted. “Are you trying to insult me?”

He blinked and then rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean a literal angel. Havenwood Falls has plenty of those. I meant . . . you look hot,” he finally finished.

I smiled behind my mask, glad he couldn’t see how stupidly large my grin was. “Thanks.”

On my right, someone cleared their throat, and I jumped, nearly dropping my arrow.

“Hello,” said a male voice, somewhat amused as I tried to breathe through the adrenaline pumping through me.

“Hello,” I countered uncertainly.

I didn’t recognize the voice, which meant it wasn’t Walter—or anyone else I knew. Rhys and I had already discussed this. Our dark fae could still be running around as Walter—but probably not. In fact, chances were he’d already moved on to another glamoured disguise. Especially now that everyone knew Walter was supposed to be dead. He could literally be anyone. Which was exactly why we’d chosen Cupids & Cuties as our backdrop. If he was going to be anonymous, so were we. I just hoped between the masks that hid our faces and our freshly inked tattoos serving as weapons, it would be enough.

“I was just wondering if . . .” The mystery man beside me held up his arrow, pointing it awkwardly at me.

We both waited. Nothing happened.

Finally, he sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot. Have a good night,” he said and wandered off, still clutching his unlit arrow.

I looked over at Rhys and found him watching our mystery man with narrowed eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“He thought his arrow might light for you,” Rhys said in a strange voice.

“Ridiculous.” I huffed.

“Are you referring to the arrow pointing toward true love or the idea that anyone could want you to be theirs?” Rhys asked.

“Take your pick,” I muttered.

“Gwen, he’s not the first person whose attention you’ve attracted tonight,” Rhys said.

I felt my cheeks heating. “But . . . it’s not like any of them talk to me normally.”

“You’re a little . . . hard to approach when you’re not disguised,” he pointed out.

I scowled.

“Not to mention the mistletoe you take.”

“Point taken.”

Rhys continued watching the human mystery man, and I bit my lip, still trying to decipher his strange tone. Was he actually jealous of some human with a spelled arrow? I’d been a little distant since we’d slept together on Rhys’s couch. It wasn’t so much the sex as what came afterward that had me unsettled. Rhys said he wanted me—not just for today but forever. And goddess knew I wanted him. But with a dark fae killer after me and the future so uncertain, I wasn’t sure whether I could let myself believe him just yet. Maybe when all this was over. Maybe then I could really open myself to Rhys and his promises.

I let my thoughts wander, both of us still watching and scanning the guests. But everyone looked like they were supposed to be here. A few arrows lit up here and there, and people giggled or just tore off their masks, smiling—all too happy to lock lips with their other half.

“These arrows are really stupid,” I muttered, feeling like a Scrooge more than ever. I wasn’t even sure why.

“Really? I think they’re kind of nice.”

I rolled my eyes, still watching the latest couple to match arrows. They’d removed their masks and pressed their lips together, both of them unconcerned at the room full of onlookers.

“How can you think it’s nice? The magic is obviously fake,” I scoffed. “It’s like a classy orgy that—” I pulled up short as I turned to Rhys, my eyes locked on his arrow. It was lit a bright white. And the point was aimed at me.

When I didn’t react, Rhys reached for my arrow and gently spun it in my hand. He set it back against my palm so I was the one holding it, the point aimed at his stomach. Immediately, the entire thing lit up to a bright white.

“Well, shit,” I muttered.

Even with the mask, I knew Rhys was grinning as he closed the distance between us. “Looks like we get our own orgy right here in the corner.”

“Rhys, we have to stay focused,” I began but he’d already ripped his mask aside, leaning toward me, lips puckered. He grabbed the edge of my mask, lifting it just enough to expose my mouth—and pressed his lips to mine.