Page 78 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
I reach the top and step into what I can only describe as organized chaos.
Mask shop is the understatement of the decade.
This is a maskhoard.
They cover every available wall space. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Leather, metal, fabric, wood. Ornate theatrical pieces next to simple black half-masks. Some look antique, others brand new. Full face masks. Half masks. Masks shaped like animals, skulls, abstract designs I don't have words for.
And that's not all.
There are horror props scattered throughout the space. A suspiciously realistic severed hand sits on a bookshelf, gripping a purple candle. Nope. A purpledildo.A collection of vintage medical instruments hangs on one wall. Preserved insects and bats in shadow boxes. Old anatomical drawings. A fucking guillotine blade mounted like wall art above the dusty taxidermy head of a glass-eyed buck.
It's like a museum in here.
"Welcome to my workshop!" Jamie announces with obvious pride, spreading his arms wide.
I'm still processing the sheer amount of stuff when something massive and orange catches my eye.
There's a tiger.
A full-grown fuckingtiger, lounging lazily on a plush sheepskin rug in front of a crackling fireplace. Its fur is matted and clumped in places, more dull yellow than vibrant orange.
It's not moving.
The relief at realizing it's taxidermy is enough to make me dizzy. Why the fuck did I think this crazy place would have a tiger lounging around in it? It isn'tthatweird in here. Sure, half the masks on the walls are giving off haunted energy I'm going to want to scrub away with holy water, but atiger?—
The tiger lifts its head and yawns, revealing yellowed teeth the size of my fingers.
I jump back so hard I crash into Rex's chest. He catches my shoulders automatically, steadying me with a low chuckle like terrorizing me with a fuckingsurprise tigeris the funniest shit that's happened all week.
"That's just Cheeto," Jamie says, laughing at my reaction. "He's blind. Total sweetheart. Been with us for eight years now."
"You have a tiger," I croak stupidly. "In your tower."
"A rescue tiger," Jamie clarifies, as if that makes this perfectly normal, moving to scratch behind Cheeto's thick ears. The massive cat doesn't move, but he makes a rumbling chuffing noise that vibrates in my bones like an engine rolling down an avalanche. "He was abused in a roadside zoo. Basically a freak show for animals. When the state shut the zoo down, he had nowhere to go, so we took him in."
"How?" I splutter. "I mean, that's… sweet, buthow?"
Jamie grins at me. "I was a zoo vet before becoming a maskmaker. He has an enclosure he can go to whenever he wants, but he'd rather be in here with us."
"And who is us?" I ask warily.
As if the universe heard my question, a beaded curtain rattles like bones over a shadowed doorway I hadn't noticed before. Boots thump against the worn wooden floor as a figure emerges.
He's fuckingtall.Too tall for the doorframe, and he ducks his head as he slips into the room. A lean, muscular alpha with tawny skin that seems to glow in the firelight through the undone laces of his white tunic, long dark auburn hair cascading over broad shoulders, and a brown feather earring dangling from his right ear.
And a golden skull for a face.
My hand flies to my pocket, fingers wrapping around my knife's bone handle on pure instinct. I must make some kind of sound or a face because the alpha's expression shutters immediately.
Wait.
My brain finally catches up to my panic. It's not a skull. It's amask. Gold and skeletal with filigree designs lovingly etched into the bones and teeth, covering the alpha's entire lower face from cheekbones to jaw, leaving only the aquiline bridge of his nose and those vivid green eyes visible. Pink scar tissue branches up his cheekbones from beneath the edge of the mask.
The alpha's green eyes flick to the floor and I realize with a sinking feeling that my reaction—jumping back like he's about to eat me alive—probably isn't something he's unused to.
Shit.
"Oh!" Jamie bounds over, beaming from ear to ear. "This is Orion, my mate. Orion, this is Bells. He's the new singer for Vespyr.”
