Page 3 of Make Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #1)

KASHA

I ’m wearing a fucking ballgown. I can’t remember the last time I wore something like this, and every instinct in me wants to hate the sheer fabric clinging to my skin and pooling around my feet like some kind of shimmering trap. Yet…

I don’t.

I might even love it. The way the skirt sways when I move, how the corset hugs me tight, shaping me into a version of myself I hardly recognize.

For once, it feels like I’m not even me , and maybe that’s exactly what I need tonight.

I tried to convince Spencer I didn’t need to go. Especially after I found out Clara—my only other close and single friend—won’t be coming. But then Spencer unleashed her threats .

Too many to count. Each one more creatively horrifying than the last. I could’ve brushed all that off, but then her eyes got misty, and she begged.

It was almost too much to handle coming from her as she pleaded with me to trust her gut—her crazy, pregnancy-fueled gut—as she swore that this night could be life or death for me.

A little dramatic? Obviously.

But in the end, I caved.

Still, now that she’s busy with Drake and doing her best to forget all about me for the evening, I could get away with staying home. She’s not going to have time to check on me.

Yet, the second I laced the black corset over my ribs and smoothed the tulle skirt down my hips, something inside me shifted.

Maybe Spencer’s right.

Also, there was the tiny detail about how she threatened to bribe Natalia not to help me with my wolf if I backed out of going to this party. And given how restless I’ve been lately, unlocking my inner beast might not be a someday kind of need anymore.

With a not entirely reluctant sigh, I give myself another once over. My reddish copper hair hangs in soft waves over my shoulders, falling to my waist. Makeup isn’t really my thing, but I’ve added some sparkles above my green eyes, making them seem lighter than normal.

The bodice of my dress brings out the curves in my waist, keeping everything tight and perky.

Shimmering black threads catch the light in my bedroom, but the top half feels more like armor than it does elegance.

Maybe that’s a good thing since I’m showing up, all by myself, at the house of someone I’m not fond of.

But that’s another thing Spencer was right about.

I won’t let Vaelora take pleasure in my absence.

Tonight, I’ll arrive with my head high, my emotions in check, and find someone to keep me company.

I’m sure there’ll be people from the pack that I see there.

An ally, friends of friends, anyone, really.

I can fake it for the hour or less I plan to be present.

There’s no sense wasting more time, so I slip into my black flats. While I’m loving this dress, heels are asking too much.

The crumpled invitation sits on my dresser, and I grab it before heading for the front door.

Am I forgetting anything? Probably not, and it’s not like I’m traveling to another world. I can come home whenever I want. Or so I keep telling myself.

But doubt creeps in anyway, soaking through my resolve like rain through cracked stone.

Spencer might be off her rockers right now with the pregnancy being so new, but my best friend is powerful in her own right. She has senses most supernaturals could only hope to possess.

Her feeling so strongly about my going to this party tonight leaves me feeling off kilter.

Not necessarily in a bad way, but… Well, I don’t know what.

I just know that I’m uncomfortable. Though, my Nona would tell me that’s when I should be certain I’m living my best life.

Comfort was never her goal. She thrived on pushing boundaries, learning lessons the hard way, and finding beauty in the chaos.

Mostly, she just loved me with a fierceness that never faltered.

If she hadn’t died, I would’ve never left Avalon.

Unfortunately, her lack of fear got the best of her.

She made a bet with th e wrong demon and lost. A demon who didn’t live long after I hunted him down.

I shake off the memories and remind myself that tonight isn’t about the past. Tonight’s for me. For living my best life. Not for wallowing in what I can’t change or drowning in the unknowns of my best friend’s crazy intuition.

I open my front door, and the moment the cool night air caresses my exposed skin, I shiver but not because I’m cold.

There’s a hum in the air, a subtle vibration that makes the hair on my arms stand on end, like the echo of a spell half-cast. It reminds me of the time Caius forced open a portal right here in Crossroads, except this energy feels softer.

Almost like it’s calling for me specifically.

For a brief moment, I consider slamming the door shut and hiding inside all night. But curiosity wins out. Plus, I traded my second favorite dagger for this damn dress. Somebody besides my mirror deserves to see how amazing I look.

Glancing at the back of the invitation, I double-check the coordinates then pull a slim glass vial from the hidden pocket stitched into the skirt—the main reason I traded for this outfit.

I uncork it and pour the portal spell across the sidewalk, my intention set on one particular destination.

Magic unfurls with a quiet hiss, swirling into a rising, silver mist. The spell thickens, stretching into a shimmering oval tall enough for me to move through.

On the other side, darkness and fog blur together, but I hear voices. Each of them calm, some of them even laughing. At least no one’s screaming. Not yet, anyway .

I tuck the invitation away and step forward. And immediately regret it.

It’s freezing out here. Sharp, bone deep cold sinks through my skin.

I hug my arms around myself and scan the area.

Towering pine trees loom in every direction, their gnarled branches skeletal against the night sky.

Wisps of mist creep along the ground like living things, curling around my feet with icy fingers.

What the hell is Vaelora doing throwing a party out in the middle of these damn woods?

I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t want to.

This might be her event, but tonight isn’t about her.

Three more guests shimmer into view to my left—two women in jewel-toned dresses and a man in a tux with a sharp blue tie. Their voices are soft, possibly cautious, like even they aren’t sure they belong here.

At least I’m not alone.

Turning around, I spot a path illuminating out of the mist. Glowing flowers—delicate and ethereal—sprout from the earth, each blossom casting an indulgent, pulsing light. They create a winding trail, beckoning me deeper into the forest.

I’ve never seen anything like it before. Magic thrums beneath my feet, weaving through the soil like veins of energy.

There’s no backing out now.

Lifting the skirt of my dress, I start to walk, my pace quickening thanks to the persistent temperatures. The path curves, leading me through dense trees whose trunks continue to stretch high into the night sky. Above, the full moon hangs heavy, casting everything in shades of silver and blue.

The lights grow brighter ahead, and the faint thrum of music drifts closer—low, rhythmic, and strangely hypnotic. Not loud enough to be obnoxious. Just enough to tug at my bones and whisper that something is waiting.

Finally, the forest thins, and massive iron gates come into view. They stand open, towering and ornate, wrought with twisted patterns of vines and stars. Beyond them, dozens of guests in flowing gowns and tailored suits gather, their breath misting in the cold as they move toward the house.

I don’t recognize anyone. Not yet. But my attention isn’t on the people.

It’s on the house.

Or rather, the mansion that seems to have materialized out of the mist itself.

The moon’s glow spills over its cobblestone walls, casting sharp shadows over the towers and turrets. A layer of fog blankets the ground, settling low across the manicured lawn. The closer I get, the warmer the air becomes, like the mansion itself is breathing heat into the night.

It’s haunting, mysterious, and somehow, achingly beautiful.

I lift my chin and square my shoulders. Time to get this over with.

Others begin filtering through the double iron gates, heels tapping softly on the stone walkway, soft voices drifting into the night.

I pause just short of the threshold, hovering near the edge of the crowd.

A part of me wants to wait until I see someone I know well enough to cling to all night, to help me pretend that I belong here.

But that thought doesn’t last long. I didn’t come for connection.

I came to appease Spencer and to make damn sure Vaelora doesn’t get to gloat about my absence. Nothing more, nothing less.

I can do this on my own.

As I take another step forward, I keep my gaze lowered and shoulders squared, but it’s hard to completely avoid eye contact in a place like this.

Penny, a shifter from Spencer’s pack, spots me and offers a warm wave, her crimson gown catching my attention.

The fabric clings to her curves with precision and the off-shoulder sleeves slip down her arms in a way that looks effortless yet intentional.

A daring slit cuts high up one thigh, revealing smooth skin that catches every flicker of light as she moves with almost lethal confidence. Basically, she looks deadly and stunning—as always.

I guess I’m not going to ignore everyone tonight.

Plus, Spencer would probably be pissed if I snubbed Penny. With that thought in mind, I drift in her direction to offer something resembling small talk that hopefully won’t turn awkward.

“Can you believe this place?” I say, glancing up at the mansion that feels more like a modern day castle with its looming size.