Page 24 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fierro
Marcel’s stare spoke volumes, his knowing eyes holding decades of hope and concern. He and Colette had wanted me to find a mate even before I was cursed, convinced it would ground me, make me more than just Enzo’s weapon of choice. They thought it would save whatever humanity I had left.
I had never wanted to settle down, had scoffed at the idea of fated mates like it was some fairy tale nonsense...until I met Rosalie. Now, standing in this flour-dusted kitchen watching her discover her magic, something deep in my chest ached with a longing I’d never felt before.
But I was a hideous beast. My chest tightened as I looked down at my hands—fur, claws, features that belonged more to nightmare than man. How could Rosalie ever fall in love with me…at least in this form? To break the curse, she would have to offer her blood to me willingly, out of love.
I shook my head, pushing that dark thought away. No, the only way for the curse to be broken was for Rosalie’s powers to get stronger, then she could break the spell. It had to be magic, not…the other way.
Rosalie picked up the dish rag that had fallen on the floor, wringing out the excess water into the sink. “We should get started cleaning this up.” She smiled cheerfully, practically, as if flour explosions were an everyday occurrence.
“No, I can do it,” Colette insisted, already reaching for her apron with the efficiency of someone who’d cleaned up countless messes.
“I want to help.” Rosalie straightened and gave me a warm smile that made something flutter in my chest. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?”
I looked down at myself, flour coating my shirt, frosting streaking across my arms. “I can help. I made the mess.” This was also something I never offered to do.
She stepped closer and gently clutched my arm, her touch sending warmth through the fabric of my shirt. “Please, you’re a mess.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement rather than disgust. “Then maybe we can have some dinner together.”
The word together hit me harder than it should have. I nodded, suddenly feeling awkward under her caring gaze.
Marcel stepped closer to me as Rosalie turned back to washing the walls, his movement deliberate and quiet. “ Monsieur, I must speak with you,” he murmured low enough that only I could hear. The tension in his shoulders told me that he and Colette must have found something significant.
My stomach knotted. Whatever they’d discovered about Sophia Volaris, it wasn’t good news.
I put my hand on Rosalie’s shoulder as she rinsed out the flour-covered rag, her skin warm even through the fabric of her shirt. “I’ll return in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She looked at me with that radiant smile that never failed to make my chest tighten. “We’ll probably be done cleaning.”
I nodded, reluctantly pulling my hand away, and headed out of the kitchen with Marcel right on my heels. I headed up the stairs and Marcel remained silent, obviously he didn’t want Rosalie to overhear what he was about to tell me about her mother.
My pulse quickened with each step. The urgency in his voice downstairs had set my nerves on edge.
I stopped just short of my bedroom, turning to face him. My jaw clenched as I braced myself for bad news. “Tell me what you found out.”
“Nothing.”
I cocked my eyebrow, confusion and frustration warring in my chest. “You didn’t find anything? How can that be possible with our resources?”
Marcel’s face was grim, his usual composed demeanor cracking slightly. “I realize that, monsieur . That’s what’s so strange.” He ran a hand through his graying hair. “I couldn’t find out anything about her. No family. No friends. Nothing.”
His words stunned me. What game was Rosalie’s father playing?
“But she was married to Volaris?” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, claws digging into my palms.
He met my gaze steadily, but I could see the concern etched in the lines around his eyes. “I couldn’t find any evidence of that, at least not in New Orleans. It’s possible they could have gotten married someplace else and moved here.” He shrugged, but the gesture was tense, uncertain.
“Rosalie hasn’t mentioned that her family wasn’t from here, but we haven’t discussed family origins.
Not yet.” I began pacing the narrow hallway, my mind racing through possibilities, each one more troubling than the last. A woman with no records, a child whose magic was violently bound…
had Volaris murdered Rosalie’s mother to steal her daughter?
Was the torture Rosalie remembered actually not just him binding her powers but her memories too?
Marcel shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tightening. “But that’s not all. There are rumors that Volaris owes money to the wrong people.”
I stopped mid-stride, my blood running cold. “Angelo?” The name came out as barely more than a growl.
He shook his head grimly, his face pale. “No, not the Santi family. The Hunter family. He owes the wolves, and rumor has it Trystan is demanding payment.”
My stomach dropped like a stone. Cross-family debts were always messy, always dangerous.
Territory disputes, honor codes, blood feuds—when vampires owed wolves, things got complicated fast. And Trystan Hunter had a reputation for collecting debts in the most brutal ways possible.
I gripped the doorframe to steady myself, the wood groaning under the pressure of my claws.
I thought of the wolf attack and how vicious they had been, the memory of their snarls and snapping teeth still fresh in my mind. “What about our attack? Was that mere coincidence or something else?”
“Based on what I learned today, I’m not sure they were related, but I wouldn’t rule it out.” Marcel’s jaw tightened as he delivered the next bomb. “Rumor has it that Volaris has offered up Rosalie for payment.”
My heart stilled completely, the world seeming to tilt on its axis. Ice flooded my veins as the danger sank in. “Did he accept?”
Marcel’s expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line as the color drained from his face. His fingers drummed nervously against his thigh. “According to my sources, Trystan hasn’t agreed. Not yet.”
“Damn it.” I slammed my fist against the wall, leaving a crater in the plaster. “If I wasn’t cursed, the family would protect her. Trystan wouldn’t make a move unless Angelo granted it.” My chest burned with rage and helplessness. “Where is Volaris now?”
Marcel’s expression grew more grim. “I don’t know. He’s usually a regular at the casinos, but he’s been strangely absent lately.”
My muscles coiled like steel cables. “You think Trystan has him? Do you think they’re conspiring together?”
“I don’t know.” Marcel cast me a wary gaze. “But his disappearance right after these rumors started...it’s not a good sign.”
I dragged my hands through my fur, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios, each one involving Rosalie being stolen from me. The thought made my chest burn with a fury I’d never experienced before.
“Come with me.” I needed answers and I needed them now. I strode toward the center of the room, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the leather cord around my neck.
My fingers found the amulet that rested against my chest: The Witch’s Heart.
The crystallized organ was warm against my palm.
Enzo had given it to me, telling me it would help me track down anyone who tried to hide from the Santi family.
But the amulet was as treacherous as it was useful; it only showed half-truths and left everything open for interpretation.
I lifted the amulet, its dark red surface catching the lamplight like captured blood. The heart-shaped crystal felt heavier than usual in my grip. “Show me Volaris.”
The amulet grew hot against my palm, the crystallized heart beginning to glow from within.
Shadows swirled inside the translucent surface, coalescing into an image.
A dark figure appeared, partially hidden in shadows that seemed to move and shift.
I squinted at the vision, frustration building in my chest. I couldn’t make out who it was; the shadows were too deep, the figure too obscured.
Marcel leaned closer, studying the vision. Suddenly the air seemed to grow colder, icing over my blood. “Is that Volaris?”
“I think so. The figure’s blurry and distorted, and I can’t make out where he is. At least we know he’s alive.”
Just as the glow began to fade, the image flickered and changed. A new scene appeared within the crystal. Rosalie, alone in the kitchen, completely unaware of the dark figure watching her through the window.