Masquerade Hypnosis -before I Knew It- I-m Preg... Info

I just didn’t know to whom.

I pressed a palm to my lower belly. The silk was taut there. When had that happened? I was lean. Athletic. I’d done a full ab workout the morning of the party. But now there was a firm, round swell beneath my hand, as undeniable as a moon rising. Masquerade Hypnosis -Before I knew it- I-m Preg...

The last thing I remember before the door opened was the whisper’s final gift: a single memory surfacing from the trance. Myself, kneeling on a floor of rose petals and pocket watches, lifting a silver chalice to my lips, and whispering, “I consent. I consent. I consent.” I just didn’t know to whom

I tore off the mask. My pupils were blown wide, and in the irises—just for a flicker—I saw the shape of a spiral, turning slowly. When had that happened

The masquerade had a theme this year: Hypnos’s Gala . Every invitation bore the image of a poppy-wreathed figure with fingers pressed to smiling lips. Everyone joked about it. “Don’t drink the punch unless you want to wake up married.” “Careful, the DJ is actually a neurologist.” Just party chatter. Rich people’s Halloween with better tailoring.

The silk was deep midnight blue, embroidered with constellations that seemed to shift when I blinked. My mask was a delicate thing of silver lace and tiny, faceted obsidians that caught the candlelight of the masquerade hall behind me. I didn’t recall putting it on, either. In fact, the last clear memory I had was standing in the coat-check line, holding a champagne flute I hadn’t been old enough to drink from.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of a cheval mirror in a gown I didn’t remember picking out.