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“You knew who I was before tonight. You saw my photograph, read my application, and found me after hearing one sentence through a gate.”

His shoulders tense.

“You keep asking me to choose you without letting me see what I’m choosing.”

He looks away first. I reach toward Rhys. My fingers touch the lower edge of his skull mask.

“May I?”

His hand circles my wrist. For one second, I think he will refuse. Then he releases me.

“Yes.”

I lift the Reaper from his face. Rhys looks exactly as severe as I expected. And nothing like the monster I imagined. Dark hair has been flattened by the mask. A faint scar cuts through one eyebrow. His face is sharp and controlled, but his eyes hold the same steady patience I felt in every touch. I trace the scar with my thumb. His eyes close briefly.

“Still frightening,” I whisper.

“They usually run before this part.”

“I already ran.”

“Are you finished?”

I look at Dante.

“Not yet.”

He sits straighter.

“You may want to reconsider. I’m extremely sensitive about my face.”

“I’m sure your personality distracts people.”

Rhys’s mouth twitches. Dante points at him.

“Don’t encourage her.”

I hook my fingers beneath the Devil mask.

“May I?”

He catches my hand and kisses my palm through the opening.

“Yes.”

I remove it. Dante’s grin appears first. Real. Crooked. Dangerous in an entirely different way without the painted demon hiding it. His hair falls untidily over his forehead, and mischief lives permanently at the corners of his mouth. But his eyes are uncertain. The Devil is nervous. I touch his cheek.

“You’re not ugly.”

“Give it time.”

I pull him closer and kiss his forehead. The joke disappears from his expression. For once, Dante has nothing to say. Two masks rest beside me. One remains. Callum stands. He takes one step backward.

“Don’t.”

The word leaves me softly. He stops. Rhys watches him. Dante looks down. They knew this would be harder for him. I slide from the altar. The blanket stays wrapped around my body as I cross the distance between us. Callum looks enormous without the theatrical darkness surrounding him. Not less frightening. More real. I reach for his mask. His hand closes around mine.

“If you remove it, you can’t pretend you were claimed by a stranger.”