I apologize for the lapse in stories, readers. I have a few in the works now, and I promise to post them as soon as possible. Please enjoy!

I may have a betrothed, but that does not stop me from wanting freedom . . .

There is very little that can compare to the crowds during Carnivale season on Sin Street. Shrouded in a bedazzled mask of scarlet and black, I delicately thread my way through the drunken revelers. My two bodyguards brace the path in front of me, insurances from my betrothed that my virtue remain reputably intact.

In other words, no one is allowed to touch me – except him of course.

As if my demeanor and companions do not clarify my submission, I wear a collar of equal vibrance to my mask; I am marked as taken.

The trip is merely a play of showmanship by my would-be master – a show of good favor and trust perhaps. He is aware of my skills and how valuable I would be in another man’s hands, but he trusts he is the only man aware of such skills.

He is wrong.

A strong hand grabs my upper left arm; pulling with authority, the mysterious hand detaches me from the crowd. My bodyguards are none the wiser that I have been taken, too caught up in the lewd display of female wares. The alley seems to last forever, yet it is only a short time before my captor and I pause, panting in anticipation of being followed.

He wears a black and white mask, demonstrative of lower status. I am in shock until our eyes meet, then familiarity eases my fear. He senses this and gives a small smile before taking my hand and rushing behind a red stone building.