Her Fate is Sealed: Target of the Vengeful Beast King

PREFACE:

In a world filled with various species-werewolves, vampires, fae, witches, humans, and more-the Urekai stood apart as one of the most powerful of them all.

And to tell you a little about them, you should know, like werewolves, they could shift into beast form. Like vampires, they drank blood. And moved unnoticed among humankind.

The Urekai lived long, near-endless lives with memories stretching across centuries. Possessing a heightened sense of sight, smell, and hearing, they were also known for their intense passions.

But for all their strength and pleasures, meeting their soulmate, or even a compatible match, was incredibly difficult. Yet many held onto hope of one day finding a mate destined for them.

Should you cross them, remember this well: their memories are eternal, their grudges immortal. To provoke a Urekai is to seal your fate, for they never forget.

And they always collect.

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PROLOGUE

FIVE YEARS AGO.

Urekai land: Vallen Falls, Urai.

LORD REVANDREL CEL'THEREN

Of the many slave holes I own scattered across the city, Neked Den sits most special to me above the rest.

My goal is to make it the largest, most renowned, and most profitable pleasurehouse in all Urekai lands and far beyond its borders.

So, here I was, stepping out of my carriage surrounded by my sentinels, making my way into Pleasur'io-the largest slave holes in the city. For now.

Bass-heavy music blasted from above as I entered, the smell of sweat, smoke, and sultriness assaulting my senses.

Males shouted, maidens danced, and laughter spilled through the floors.

Eyes followed me, but they got my perpetual black scowl in return. That alone sent the message clearly: do not come close.

If I were here for pleasure, I might have bothered to look more approachable. But I was not, so I did not.

We took the private corridor, bypassing the mess and music.

Vincent Loran, my ever-efficient overseer, moved ahead as we neared the secured wing, stopping in front of the guards stationed at the grand double doors.

"We would like to see Merchant Lord Jolan Kolls," Vincent said evenly.

The guards gave us the once-over, unimpressed. "Do you have an appointment?" one asked.

"We do not," Vincent replied.

The broader of the two crossed his arms. "Then you will have to return another day. Our master meets strictly by appointment."

Vincent held his eyes. "Tell your master, Lord Cel'theren is here to see him."

Recognition dawned instantly, their eyes shooting wide as they looked at me.

Both snapped into immediate bows so deep their noses nearly scraped the floor.

"My lord! Forgive us, we had no idea-"

"It is an honor, truly-"

Their overlapping voices gave me a headache.

The other guard tried to speak above the broader one. "I will go in there immediately and announce your-"

"Never mind." I moved past them. "I will do it myself."

They practically stumbled out of my way. I grabbed the doors, pushing them open hard enough to shake the hinges.

The chatter inside stopped.

At the far end of the lavish chamber sat the male I was here for. Jolan Kolls looked irritated at the noise... until he saw me.

He gasped, leaping to his feet so quickly his chair scraped against the floor with an ugly screech.

"Lord Revandrel! What a pleasant surprise!" He sounded shocked and way too eager as he gestured toward the robed man beside him. "I am sure you recognize Lord Cyrus-"

"Of course, who does not know the High Magister?" I said smoothly. "But I am afraid I will have to steal his time. I need to speak with you, and I am sure Cyrus will not mind." I turned my gaze to him. "Will you?"

"Not at all." Rising from his seat, the High Magister retrieved his hat and headed for the door. "We will continue our discussion another time, Merchant Lord."

Jolan raised his voice after him. "Yes, yes, I will send a messenger bird with the details!"

I slammed the door shut behind the High Magister.

Now alone, Kolls was smiling widely at me like a male who did not know whether to offer wine or whip out his favorite underwear for an autograph. "Lord Revandrel, what an honor. To what do I owe this visit?"

I settled into the chair the Magister had vacated like I owned the place. Leaning back, I pinned Kolls with a stare.

"You are a difficult man to pin down," Jolan Kolls continued, laughing nervously. "I have spent years trying to meet with you. I have a business proposition, I believe-"

"I am afraid that will have to wait." My tone was flat. "I am here on my own business. And I intend to get straight to the point."

"Sure, sure, of course, by all means." Kolls settled forward with an attentive look.

"I want the very first ten maidens who ever worked for you in this place," I stated bluntly. "Specifically, the five known by these mask colors: Red, Blue, Green, White, and Yellow."

There it was, the end of his smile.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. So predictable.

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable, like someone had replaced his chair with a bed of nails. "You know I cannot do that. You, of all people, know a good businessman never reveals his secrets."

"I know," I said calmly with a nod. "And I also know this: you want to expand your guild. You want more economic power, political influence, and social leverage. You are struggling with your black market operations, and your contraband relics never make it past the third tollhouse before they are seized. How am I doing so far?"

He lowered his head, chagrined.

"All of this is why you have been trying to get a meeting with me for how long now?" I tilted my head slightly. "Twenty-five years?"

"Thirty-five," Jolan Kolls muttered.

I gave a single nod. "You want my help. You want into my good graces. You want to do business with me. Well, I am finally listening because now you have something I want."

He remained tensed and wary.

"So, give me their identities. Those ten slaves you used to build your brothel empires. Especially the Red Mask."

His broad shoulders slumped.

"During these seven centuries, Pleasur'io is still well known," I continued casually. "That female is the only reason your name still has weight, and your pocket has not dried completely. She is the legacy itself, and I want her."

"I really cannot..." he began, looking uneasy.

"I want all the files on them, and in exchange, I will lend you my name," I stated bluntly.

His pale face looked stunned. Then, incredulous. "You would really do that?"

I raised a 'wait' hand. "Do not get ahead of yourself. There will be conditions. But yes, I will."

Koll looked highly tempted. My name was a huge offer after all. But at the same time, he looked genuinely puzzled.

"But you are the Cel'theren. You have power, wealth, and influence. You have never shown much interest in me, making me the runt of your empire. So why is this suddenly important to you? Why now?"

"That is none of your concern," I said evenly. "So. Will you accept my offer or not?"

Koll's face screamed 'yes!' his eyes filled with eagerness and greed. Already, calculating all the doors my name would open for him.

But there was also hesitation.

"Must... the Red Mask be included?" he faltered, pleading silently with me.

Ah, of course. She was the jewel in his empire. His goldmine. His ghost.

The Red Mask's hidden identity was his greatest secret.

"Especially her."

He winced. "I made a vow. An agreement with her, long ago. When she left, when her contract ended, I swore never to reveal her identity to anyone. An oath I have never broken. Ever."

I merely watched him in silence.

"She was different from the others." Still uncomfortable as hell, he added. "See, I will gladly give you the others, all nine of them. But not her. Please, can we exclude her?"

"Time's up." I stood. "Nice to meet you, Merchant Jolan Kolls." I headed for the door.

"No, wait!"

I stopped. Turned.

"I will give you everything you need! Just, please, wait here!" he blurted before scrambling to his feet. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he disappeared through the door on the right.

Yeah. That is what I thought.

I walked back and reclaimed my seat, letting myself relax again.

Moments later, a stack of aged files lay open before me, spread across the table like a tribute. Names. Faces. Records. And proof.

I skimmed through them methodically.

A few of the females were Urekai, but the rest were mostly Succubi.

No surprises there. They had to be the species known for their allure to pull off the kind of reputations they had.

But I knew what I was looking for, exactly who I needed to find. I opened the last folder. The one labeled Red Mask.

And the world... stopped.

I stared.

My heart did not pound. My breathing did not hitch. But something cold slid through my veins like poison.

My eyes snapped up. "No. That cannot be right." Rage filled me. "How dare you try to dupe me?"

"I would never, Lord Cel'theren," Kolls insisted, hands raised in quick defense. "She is the Red Mask."

I pointed to the parchment. "Lady Baevera Sevriel Eldareth?" I said slowly. "Only daughter of the late Supreme Lord Magmus Duskbane Eldareth, the Grand Magnate of House Eldareth... that Lady Baevera?"

"The same," he confirmed quietly. And for some reason, the bastard actually looked guilty.

Things rarely got to me anymore. When you have lived the way I have, seen the things I have seen, very little has the power to shake you. Even less confusing for you.

And yet, I sat there, staring at her name, written in clean, elegant ink across old parchment. Waiting for it to shimmer... shift... correct itself. For the ink to swirl and reveal the real name underneath.

It did not.

Baevera Eldareth is Red Mask.

I shoved the fury back down, hard. I could not let it cloud my thoughts. I had to process this.

Proper, cold as an icicle, and proud as a peacock, Baevera?

The female I hated more than anyone in this cursed world.

The prey running from me, avoiding my path for over a thousand years.

The heir to the Eldareth dynasty, Baevera, was the infamous figure behind the Red Mask?

I blinked once. Twice.

For the first time in centuries, I was completely stunned.

And, gods help me, genuinely confused.