Page 26 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)
Chapter Twenty-Six
Fierro
Rosalie was so pale her skin looked almost translucent in the kitchen light, her frightened eyes darting toward the window as if she expected to see her stalker’s face pressed against the glass.
Every muscle in my body ached to wrap my arms around her, to pull her close and shield her from whatever danger lurked outside.
But I was a beast—covered in fur and claws that could tear her delicate skin.
How much comfort could I offer without overstepping the fragile trust we’d built?
The sun was setting over the estate, the sky deepening into purples and grays.
Marcel and Colette exchanged a knowing look, their faces already beginning to lose their animated expressions.
They clasped each other’s hands tightly, fingers intertwining one last time before the curse took hold.
Slowly, methodically, their skin hardened and grayed until they stood like perfectly carved statues, frozen in their final pose of connection .
Rosalie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “I’ve never seen them transform before.” She reached out with trembling fingers and placed a shaking hand on Colette’s now-stone arm, the marble cold and lifeless beneath her touch. “It’s so sad.”
Her sadness opened a wound deep in my chest that I didn’t want to acknowledge.
My chest clenched as the familiar guilt crashed over me like a tide I couldn’t hold back.
They were cursed because of me, innocent people paying the price for my sins.
Tinker Bell had taken her vengeance on me and twisted it to include them, making sure my punishment would be complete.
Marcel and Colette shouldn’t have been punished for what I’d done. They had served my family faithfully for decades, and this was how they were repaid.
I was the one who had killed Tinker Bell’s sister—not them. The memory burned through me like acid. They were condemned to turn to stone every evening, trapped in their own bodies, because I had been a monster long before any curse made me look like one.
My hands curled into fists, claws digging into my palms until I felt the sting of blood.
“You said I can’t be alone, but Marcel and Colette can only protect me during the daytime.” She turned to face me fully, her chin lifting with resolve. “What if something happens to you?”
The thought of anything happening to me while she was in danger made my chest tighten with panic. “Nothing will,” I said firmly, stepping closer to her. “I will always be here to protect you.”
“Maybe.” She crossed her arms, her eyes holding mine with surprising steadiness. “But I need to know how to protect myself. ”
Every instinct in me wanted to argue with her, to insist that I was strong enough to handle any threat.
My jaw worked as I fought back the protective words.
But the truth was, I had limitations, like not being able to leave this damn property.
The curse bound me here as surely as chains.
If someone managed to snag her from underneath my watch, especially at night when Marcel and Colette were helpless stone. ..
I ran a hand through my fur, flour still dusting the strands. “The best way to do that is to master your magic.” The admission felt like swallowing glass, but she was right. She needed to protect herself and magic might be her only real defense if I failed her like I had Marcel and Colette.
“Then I want to learn how to do magic that would protect me like I did with the wolves.” A steely determination reflected in her eyes that reminded me she’d already faced death once and survived.
“I promise we will.” The words came out rough, fueled by my own desperation to keep her safe.
She hesitated, then met my eyes directly. “Will The Witch’s Heart show me what to do?”
I tensed, my shoulders drawing tight. The Witch’s Heart showed harsh truths, half-formed nightmares that could drive someone mad trying to interpret them.
But there were other powers that Enzo had told me about.
He’d warned me to stay focused on the visions and their protective abilities, and to avoid its other powers.
I’d never had any reason not to follow his directions since the heart had served me well.
But if I allowed her to use it, it might unlock a power we weren’t ready to wield.
“You must beware that The Witch’s Heart only shows partial images, and it will only reveal more in different stages.” I fixed her with a look that carried a warning she needed to understand. “What you see might not be the complete truth, not yet.”
“I understand that.” She stepped closer, closing the distance between us, and gently placed her warm hand over my claw. Her skin was soft against the rough, deadly points that could tear her apart without effort. “But I need to know.”
Her soft touch broke through every wall I’d built around my heart.
She didn’t flinch, didn’t cringe when she touched the monster I’d become.
Her fingers were steady and sure against my transformed hand, accepting me as I was.
Heat spread from where she touched me, something warm and foreign that made my chest ache with longing.
At that moment, staring into her brave, determined eyes, I couldn’t deny her anything.
I slowly lifted the leather cord over my head, The Witch’s Heart warm against my palm. “Hold out your hand.”
She stretched out her palm, steady despite everything. I stared down at her open hand, the amulet growing heavier in my grip as doubts crashed over me.
According to Enzo, the amulet could be unpredictable at best, and vindictive at worst. What if it revealed the darkest truths I wasn’t ready to share? What if it showed her images of her real parents, or worse, what if it showed her exactly what kind of monster I’d been before the curse?
But her resolute expression never wavered. She deserved to know what we were dealing with, even if the truth might shatter everything she believed about her life.
“Please, Beast.” Her desperation cut through me like a razor-sharp blade.
I sighed heavily, my chest tight with reluctance, and gently placed the heart-shaped amulet in her open palm. “Now, ask it a question.”
“Will it show me the intruder?” Her fingers trembled slightly as she spoke.
“Perhaps.” I watched her face carefully, bracing myself for whatever The Witch’s Heart might reveal.
Rosalie clasped her fingers around the amulet, her knuckles going white with the force of her grip. “Show me the intruder.”
I held my breath, my heart pounding against my ribs as I hoped it would reveal more; enough that I could protect her from whatever was coming.
Above her closed fist, the air began to shimmer and ripple. It looked like heat waves rising from summer pavement. A vision slowly formed, translucent and ghostly.
Volaris materialized in the wavering image, standing at a craps table with dice in his hands.
This time he wore a clean white shirt that looked expensive, and his hair was freshly cut and styled.
His dark eyes gleamed with barely contained greed as he rolled the dice between his palms like a prayer.
The vision showed him looking years younger than when I’d last seen him.
I watched, transfixed, as he placed the dice in his right hand and blew on them with the desperate intensity of a man betting his last dollar. The dice flew from his fingers and clattered across the green felt table: a seven.
Instantly, all the stacked chips in front of him were swept away by the dealer’s rake. His face crumbled, hope dissolving into pure terror as fear flared in his eyes like a trapped animal.
Then the vision vanished like smoke.
“Dad?” Rosalie stepped back in confusion as she stared at the empty air where the image had been. “Why would this amulet show me my dad? He isn’t the intruder.”
But I wasn’t so sure. My jaw clenched as pieces of a darker puzzle began forming in my mind. Was Volaris even her real father, and if he wasn’t, why was he pretending? Did he know that Rosalie was a witch?
“The Witch’s Heart doesn’t always show what we expect,” I said carefully, not wanting to voice my suspicions yet.
“Show me the intruder, not my dad.” Frustration leaked into her eyes as she squeezed the amulet tighter.
Nothing happened. The stone remained cold and lifeless in her grip.
“Why isn’t it showing me anything?” She shook her fist as if that might coax another vision from the stubborn amulet.
“I’m not sure. But once it goes silent, you’re wasting your time trying to force it.” I gently placed my hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin through the cool stone.
The problem was, I couldn’t identify where that craps table was located.
It could be anywhere—the vampires’ Crimson Stakes, the Unseelie’s Midnight Court, the wolves’ Silver Moon.
Hell, it could even one of the smaller gambling dens that operated in the shadows of Bourbon Street.
Volaris clearly hadn’t learned his lesson about gambling, despite whatever consequences he’d already faced.
He owed someone money—Trystan, based on what Marcel had discovered. But could he possibly be the intruder? Or worse—was he planning to get her to steal from me?
The thought made my blood run cold.