Page 1 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)
Chapter One
Fierro
Enzo sent me out to gather collections for the Santi family, and those who couldn’t pay…paid in blood. I hadn’t been able to kill those whining customers—boss’ orders. He said they just needed a reminder of what would happen if they didn’t pay up.
They were lucky they hadn’t been involved in my monthly poker games. Those who couldn’t settle their debt didn’t see the light of day. The Santi family, including my boss Enzo, turned a blind eye to the card games. As long as I didn’t leave a high body count, the family didn’t care.
The metallic scent of fear still clung to my clothes as I flexed my fingers, the dried blood cracking in the creases of my knuckles.
Disappointment gnawed at me like a physical hunger.
These pathetic collections weren’t enough—never enough to sate the darkness that pulsed beneath my skin, demanding more.
My fangs ached, retracting reluctantly as I swallowed hard against the dark richness that coated my tongue .
I headed back to my home, the custom-built Lamborghini Huracán snarling beneath me as I accelerated through the empty streets, its obsidian exterior swallowing the moonlight.
Unlike some of the family, I didn’t live at Crescent Manor.
I had my own place in the bayou, away from the hustle of Bourbon Street.
The farther I drove from the city lights, the more the tension in my shoulders eased.
The swamp welcomed me with its symphony of chirping insects and croaking frogs, the humid air wrapping around me like a familiar embrace when I stepped out of the car, my Italian leather shoes sinking slightly into the soft earth.
Angelo Santi, the vampire mafia king, decided who could reside at his home, his cold eyes always calculating worth and loyalty with every interaction.
It was a select few, especially since he had a new mate, Serenity.
He looked at her with a possessive, almost tender expression I’d never seen on his marble features before, and one that stirred something bitter and forgotten in my heart, which beat slower and colder than any human’s, but beat nonetheless.
The wooden boards of my porch creaked beneath my heavy boots as I approached my sanctuary, the Spanish moss swaying in the gentle breeze around the old cypress beams. Home. Away from their judgments, their politics, their pretense of civility. Here I could be the monster I truly was.
Soft footsteps followed me. “Excuse me, sir?”
I turned sharply, muscles tensing. Someone had breached the grounds?
That should be impossible. Nonetheless, a woman stood there, seemingly unbothered by the oppressive atmosphere that sent most mortals fleeing.
I caught the soft scent of magic. A witch.
That explained how she’d gotten through, but not why she’d dared to try .
As she came closer, I noticed she looked very young, like she wasn’t even twenty yet. Her blood would be sweet and magical, satisfying my thirst. “Can you help me? My car and my phone died. I wanted to ask if I could use your phone and call someone for help.”
“You’re alone?” I stepped closer toward her, feeling my lips curl back to reveal my fangs, the hunger rising in me like a tide. The scent of magic clung to her skin—earthy and electric—making my mouth water with anticipation.
She stopped where she was, her eyes widening upon seeing my elongated canines. The color drained from her cheeks. She took an unsteady step backward, her shoulders tensing. “I’m sorry I’ve troubled you,” she whispered, clutching her purse against her chest like a shield.
But it was too late. Hunger roared through me like wildfire.
I moved with vampire speed, the world blurring around me as I seized her arm, my fingers digging into her soft flesh.
She gasped, the sound cutting off as I yanked her against my chest and sank my fangs deep into the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder.
Terror seized her completely, her mouth opening in a silent cry; but even if she screamed, no one would hear out in the bayou anyway.
Just crickets, frogs, and the distant hoot of an owl to witness her death.
She pounded her fists against my chest, the frantic rhythm like a drummer losing time.
I barely felt it—like a child hitting me.
I struck with inhuman speed, my fangs sinking deep.
Her blood was just as I had suspected, warm and magical, coursing down my throat with an electric tinge that set every nerve ending alight. ..
Unlike the with customers tonight, I didn’t stop.
I drank and drank and drank, greedy gulps that echoed in the silence of the night.
Her struggles grew weaker, her fists falling limply at her sides.
The scent of crushed herbs and candle wax—witch magic—clung to her skin, making her blood taste like nothing I’d experienced before.
Her body sagged against mine, a marionette with cut strings.
Her heart fluttered like a wounded bird, slower and slower, losing its fight for life.
When the final beat faded into silence, I dropped her on the ground with a dull thud.
Her body crumpled, hair splayed across the dark earth, eyes fixed on nothing.
I licked my lips greedily, catching every last drop, her blood like a fine red wine pumping through my veins.
The bayou spun around me as the high of her magic-infused blood flooded my system, finally satisfying the gnawing lust that had been clawing at me all night.
I tilted my head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the trees as power coursed through me like lightning.
I headed back toward the house, my boots crunching over brittle autumn leaves, to tell my servant, Marcel Beaumont, to bury the body. Marcel had been with me since Europe, loyal to a fault, along with his wife, Colette.
“What have you done?” a female voice cried out behind me, raw with horror and disbelief.
I whirled around, fangs still partially exposed. A woman knelt over the dead girl. Her fingers trembled as they hovered above the cooling flesh. Were witches falling out of the sky now? I cursed under my breath. I’d been careless, assuming the stupid girl had come alone.
The woman rose slowly to her feet, her eyes narrowed to glittering slits of rage.
The night wind suddenly picked up, howling around us as it blew her blonde hair wildly around her face like pale serpents.
A blue aura grew and pulsed around her like a vengeful sun, casting eerie shadows across the clearing and illuminating the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.
“I am Tinker Bell, head of the Moon Coven. You will pay for murdering my sister.” Her fingers curled into claws as the blue light intensified. “I know of you, Fierro Bastia.”
My hand reached for The Witch’s Heart hanging around my neck—only to grasp empty air.
My blood ran cold as ice water. The amulet was missing, its familiar weight gone from my chest. Memories flashed through my mind: removing it earlier to shower, leaving it carelessly on the bathroom counter, thinking I’d be safe for the couple of collections I had to make.
The ruby and black diamond heart-shaped talisman Enzo had given me for protection against witch magic—the one magical item I’d sworn never to be without—and I’d forgotten it on today of all days.
I took a menacing step toward her, shadows stretching between us, but she thrust her palm out, fingers splayed.
Instantly, my body seized—muscles locking in place as if turned to stone.
What the hell? Rage flooded through me as I fought against the paralysis, every instinct screaming to break free, but her magic held firm.
This wasn’t an ordinary witch. Power radiated from her in suffocating waves that pressed against my centuries-old strength.
The door creaked open behind me. Footsteps, quick and alarmed, ran toward me across the porch boards. I desperately wanted to warn him to get back inside, but my mouth remained frozen shut, jaws clamped together like a vise.
“ Monsieur , what has happened?” Marcel cried behind me, his French accent thickening with fear.
As he came up alongside me, he stopped abruptly, his body jerking backward when the same invisible force slammed into him. He let out a choked gasp, eyes widening with terror. My rage intensified—no one touched what was mine.
Something whizzed out of the house and landed in front of me—a portrait of myself that had hung in my study.
The woman headed over. “You have killed without mercy, consuming like a gluttonous pig. Therefore, I curse you and all who live in this house.”
A whirlwind erupted around me, a violent cyclone of blue fire and crackling magic that tore at my clothes and seared my skin.
I thrashed against the invisible bonds, fangs bared in a snarl of rage and pain.
It spun faster and faster until the world blurred, the witch’s vengeful face the only thing still visible through the maelstrom. .
Then came the pain—excruciating, all-consuming agony that ripped a primal scream from my throat.
My bones cracked like gunshots, splintering and reforming as they stretched and warped beneath my skin.
I collapsed to my knees, clawing at the ground while muscles tore and reknit themselves, doubling in size, transforming me from within.
Coarse fur burst through my pores like thousands of needles piercing outward, spreading across my body in a midnight pelt that bristled with each wave of torment. My fingers contorted as nails yellowed and lengthened into razor-sharp claws that dug trenches into the earth beneath me.
My jaw dislocated with a sickening pop, pushing forward as fangs erupted from bleeding gums, too large for my transforming mouth. Something violently wrenched from my lower spine, shooting out behind me—a tail that lashed wildly as if it had a mind of its own.
I tried to beg for mercy, but my vocal cords had changed, turning my pleas into thunderous roars that echoed through the night. The witch’s spell poured into every cell, every fiber of my being, until nothing human remained but the horrified consciousness trapped inside this monstrous form.
Through eyes now glowing amber in the darkness, Marcel stared down at me in horror, his body rigid and immobilized by the witch’s spell, face frozen in an expression of pure terror.
The magical whirlwind gradually faded away, leaving behind the scent of ozone and scorched grass.
I dragged myself to my feet with a guttural growl, muscles screaming in protest as I rose to my full height and loomed over Marcel.
My new claws dug into the soft earth beneath me, leaving deep gouges in the soil.
The witch pointed a trembling finger at Marcel, her blue aura pulsing with each word she spoke. “All who live here will turn to statues after sunset and remain so until after sunrise.” She stretched out her arms wide and made the night air vibrate.
Marcel’s eyes widened further, the only part of him still able to move as her curse settled upon him.
She turned her piercing gaze on me, eyes bright with righteous fury. “You will not leave the confines of your property,” she continued, each word piercing my cold heart like a sword. “All that know you will think you dead. No one will come looking for you.”
I swayed on my misshapen legs, my mind racing frantically as cold night air filled my new monstrous lungs.
I thought of Enzo, Angelo, and the rest of the family.
If they thought I was dead, they wouldn’t come here.
Cold panic shot through me, freezing my breath into visible clouds in the moonlight.
Angelo would be the only one who might possess a magical object that could break this curse—but he would never know to bring it.
She lifted her chin, moonlight casting harsh shadows across her tear-streaked face.
“You have no love in your heart, Fierro Bastia,” she spat, disgust dripping from every syllable.
“You’re greedy and selfish. You and your servants will lose your vampire powers, left to burn with an endless thirst you cannot quench, until you love a woman and she loves you in return.
” Her blue eyes darkened. “She must be willing to offer her blood freely, out of love.
My stomach twisted with hunger at the mere mention of blood, a savage thirst already building in my transformed body, causing me to bare my elongated fangs involuntarily.
With a flick of her wrist, she pointed to my portrait that had mysteriously appeared on the ground at my feet, torn from its place in the house by her magic.
“Each passing day, the portrait will change,” she warned, “turning into the beast.” Her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried across the night air deadlier than her shouts.
“Once it has completely shifted into the beast and you have not found love, you will remain a beast forever, cursed to live out your days alone—and your servants will remain statues for eternity.”
The witch’s words hung in the cold night air between us, as immovable as Marcel’s frozen form beside me, as our shared fate settled upon us like the first heavy stones of a tomb.