The white mask, with a pink neon bow, is undeniably shaped like a cute, girly Casper. I had it made for her this week, not expecting to need it just yet.

“I love it,” she assures me, putting it on before taking my arm for support.

We walk into the wyvern den together hand in hand, their usual party in full swing, but tonight, we head directly to the first floor, Dez and Markus behind us.

They wear identical masks, black and blood red. There’s no subtlety with those guys.

I’m glad we got in in time to enjoy the masquerade. It’s not even half past eleven. Thirty minutes of driving my woman wild.

“Oh my god.”

I look around, trying to see it with fresh eyes.

If the basement of the Vesper House is set up like a night club, the first floor of the Wyvern House is an all-boys club. And no wonder; until Dez, they never had a female resident. Leather seats, wood paneling, soft lighting, a fully equipped bar at the back, this one manned by Cynthia, not Luke.

Cynthia is an excellent bartender. She’s also happy to do her job wearing a tiny, glittery string bikini, and making the tassels under the cups of her breasts jiggle with every move.

When they’re not throwing a party, there’s a billiard table at the center. It’s currently replaced by a pole, around which a male and a female dancer are slowly gyrating to the sound of slow, low beats.

Around it, a flock of guests dance, laugh, fuck, and tease, every single one of them wearing masks in every shape and color—some obvious slasher fan masks, others, Venetian, the more modern neons like ours.

To me, this is the wyvern den. I’m used to it.

I lean closer to Claire to ask her, “How do you like it?”

“Hate the room. Ours is much better. Love the masks.”

Ours.

I grin. “Yes, the wyverns are definitely an old boys’ club. You should hear what most of them do their senior year.”

Even as the words escape me, I decide it’s best Claire does in fact not hear about how they spend their senior year. I’m slowly integrating her into my world, and the details about the wyvern or the Raventhorn ways would be the equivalent of chucking her in the deep end before teaching her to swim.