The inner depths of the Counter Club were nothing like the golden halls of nobility.
After drifting through the laughter, music, and dim lights of the ballroom, Seraphine led Elowen away from the crowd toward a narrow, velvet-curtained corridor. Elowen followed hesitantly, her gloved fingers brushing against the wall as the red lights overhead flickered like flames.
Then came a door—dark, wooden, and lined with black metal vines. Seraphine didn't knock.
Instead, she tilted her black mask to the side and used one of its silver studs to unlock the door.
Elowen blinked. "Your mask is… a key?"
Seraphine winked. "You didn't think we came here just to dance, did you?"
The door creaked open to reveal a smaller, sensual world.
A red-lit chamber.
