The air was thick with tension as you stood across from Mattheo, your posture perfectly still. His eyes were fixed on you, scanning every inch of your form, but it was the mask that intrigued him. The heavy, black, haunting mask you wore—the one that hid your identity as a De4th Eater.

He leaned back slightly, arms crossed over his chest, the corners of his lips twitching with a mix of impatience and curiosity. “The mask… Take it off.”

You felt the heat of his gaze, a faint stir of uncertainty rising within you. You tilted your head slightly, the sharp lines of your mask gleaming in the flickering torchlight. “Show my face?”

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed, but there was something else now—a softness, an unspoken request wrapped in the command. “Yes, darling.”

The word sent a shiver down your spine, though you masked it quickly.

“Negative,” you said.

He took a step forward, his voice low, teasing. “Are you ugly?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge. You could feel his eyes burning into you, waiting for your response.

You lifted one brow, meeting his gaze head-on, and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “Well… quite the opposite.”

The tension between you thickened, and then, slowly, you reached up with both hands, grasping the edges of the metallic mask. The action was calculated, confident. You felt the weight of it as it came away from your face, revealing the skin underneath.

For a brief moment, Mattheo was silent, his eyes wide as they traveled over every feature of your face. Your beauty was otherworldly, effortless—like something out of a dream. It was breathtaking.

Mattheo’s breath hitched slightly, his smirk faltering. His words stumbled out, barely audible, but filled with raw admiration.

“Bl00dy hell,” he breathed, his voice hushed in disbelief. “You’re…”

“Amazing?” You teased, taking a step toward him, your voice dripping with quiet confidence.

Mattheo’s lips parted, his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity that it made your pulse race. “That would be an understatement, darling.”