Page 31 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

Rosalie

The beast left me, his massive frame moving with defeated slowness as he headed toward the door. He paused for just a moment at the threshold, his shoulders sagging, before he quietly slipped out of my room and closed the door behind him with barely a whisper of sound.

I wanted to call out to him, to say something—anything—but the words stuck in my throat like thorns.

A bone-deep coldness settled over me, seeping into my chest and making it hard to breathe.

I’d known he had killed people—that much had been clear from the beginning.

But knowing he’d murdered an innocent girl who’d only been seeking help was deeply unsettling.

The feelings churning inside me were at war with each other. Before he was a beast, he’d been a vampire enforcer, killing indiscriminately without mercy or conscience. A predator who fed on the helpless .

But he’d also done so much for me—protected me, risked his life for me, shown me tenderness I’d never experienced. The way he’d stayed by my bedside all night, the flour-covered disaster of trying to bake me cookies, the gentle way he touched me as if I were something precious.

Who was he really? The monster or the man?

Colette sat gingerly on the edge of my bed, her weathered face creased with concern. “How are you feeling, ma chérie ?”

I focused on her. “Did you and Marcel have anything to do with Tinker Bell’s sister’s death?”

Colette didn’t waver in her gaze. “No, we didn’t.”

“Then why did Tinker Bell curse you?” I pushed myself up higher against the pillows, wincing slightly at the lingering weakness from using my magic.

“I believe she did it to hurt him as much as he hurt her.” Colette’s eyes grew distant, sad. “She wanted him to suffer the way she suffered.”

I nodded slowly, my throat tight. “I can understand that. If I lost a loved one to such a brutal death, I’d be consumed with rage too.” The admission felt heavy on my tongue.

Colette studied my face carefully, as if weighing her next words. “ Monsieur Bastia has many faces, ma chérie , but there has been one face I haven’t seen until you came.”

Confusion and turmoil churned in my chest. “What?”

“Compassion.” Her eyes softened. “He has never shown that toward anyone until you. He’s also never shown the kind of protectiveness that he’s shown toward you.”

Marcel had been waiting in the corner, but now he slowly approached the bed. He placed his hand gently on Colette’s shoulder. She glanced up at his weathered face, and something passed between them—a shared understanding born of decades together.

“Not even us,” Marcel added quietly, his admission carrying the weight of years. “You’ve changed him. Monsieur only cared about himself and the consumption of blood before the curse. He enjoyed draining people, reveled in being one of the most feared enforcers in New Orleans.”

“He was so evil,” Colette shook her head, “so dangerous that even other vampires gave him a wide berth.”

The words jumbled in my mind, each one adding another layer to the impossible puzzle of who Beast really was.

Colette gave me a knowing look, her gray eyes holding depths of wisdom earned through decades of experience. “But vampires and monsters aren’t the only ones who are evil, ma chérie .”

I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to ease the tension building behind my temples. “True, but I’ve never known anyone who committed murder.” The words felt strange and heavy leaving my lips.

Marcel sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of years was pressing down on him.

“I have known monsieur for a very long time. I’ve seen him have numerous relationships with women—meaningless encounters that lasted days or weeks at most.” He paused, meeting my eyes directly.

“But I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. ”

Heat bloomed in my chest, followed immediately by a cold wash of fear. Beast was a murderer and had hurt other people who couldn’t pay their debts. How could I have feelings for someone who killed people? But I couldn’t deny that I did. What was wrong with me?

“I agree,” Colette said softly, reaching over to gently squeeze my hand.

Her touch was warm and comforting, grounding me in the midst of my swirling emotions.

“He’s never tried to make anyone happy the way he does you.

The baking disaster, staying by your bedside all night, and the way he touches you like you’re made of spun glass. ”

She leaned closer and rubbed my back. “You’re going to have to decide whether you can accept him for who he is now instead of holding who he was against him. He may have been a monster, ma chérie , but he would do anything to keep you safe and make you happy.”

“We will leave you with your thoughts,” Marcel said gently.

He took Colette’s weathered hand in his, their fingers intertwining with the easy familiarity of decades together.

They moved toward the door with quiet steps, leaving me alone with my troubled thoughts and the weight of an impossible decision.

Two drastically different futures stretched out before me like diverging paths in a dark forest. My chest felt tight as I stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.

I was the beast’s prisoner, here to pay off my father’s debt.

That much hadn’t changed. But Colette was right about one thing: It wasn’t as though my father was a man of virtue.

My hands clenched into fists as bitter reality settled over me.

Not many fathers would sell their own daughters to save themselves.

He might not have killed anyone, but he’d abandoned me to a world of servitude to save his own miserable life.

I rolled onto my side, hugging a pillow against my chest as loneliness crashed over me in waves.

I wished desperately that I had someone to talk to about this, someone outside of these three who were so invested in the outcome.

But I didn’t have many friends; I’d been too busy working to pay off Dad’s endless debts to maintain relationships .

He had kept so many secrets from me, fed me so many lies. My gaze drifted toward the door, and I thought of The Witch’s Heart resting against Beast’s chest somewhere on the other side of that door.

Maybe it would have more answers. Maybe it could show me something that would help me understand what I should do.

The weariness of thinking about what to do and using my magic lured me into an uneasy sleep…

I am small—so very small. My tiny fists flail as I lie in a white crib, crying and kicking my legs.

Everything feels too big, too overwhelming, but then gentle hands reach for me.

A woman with dark hair exactly like mine lifts me against her chest, her face beautiful but soft around the edges, like looking through candlelit water.

“Hush now, my little Aurora,” she whispers, her voice like warm honey mixed with starlight. The name sends a thrill of recognition through me, as if my very soul knows it belongs to me. “Mama’s here.”

Her arms are strong and safe around me, and I can smell something wonderful—roses and something else, something magical that makes the air shimmer.

She begins to sing, and power flows through every note, wrapping around me like the softest blanket.

The lullaby seeps into my bones, and I can feel her love pouring into every word, filling up all the empty, aching places inside me.

“Sleep now, my starlight, my moon, and my sun,

Magic will keep you till morning has come.

Though darkness may find you, though shadows may call ,

My love will protect you, through danger and all...”

The melody is so familiar it makes my chest ache with longing. Her hand strokes my hair, and I feel warm, loving magic flowing from her touch. Not the raw, untrained power I struggle with now, but something ancient and sure and completely safe.

The door opens with a soft creak, and another face appears. A handsome man with kind eyes, black hair, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His smile is gentle and full of adoration as he looks at me.

“My little Aurora.” He reaches down to brush a tear off my cheek with his thumb. “What’s wrong with Daddy’s little princess?”

I feel completely loved, completely protected between these two people who look at me like I’m their entire world.

But then shadows begin creeping in from the corners of the dream. The warm light starts to dim, and their beautiful faces begin to blur and fade like smoke. No! I reach for them desperately, but my tiny hands grasp nothing but empty air.

I awoke with tears streaming down my cheeks and that haunting melody was still echoing in my mind, the phantom feeling of perfect love and safety dissolving like mist.

“Mama! Daddy! Don’t go!” The words tore from my throat before I was fully conscious, raw and desperate. I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding as the dream slipped away like water through my fingers.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway, and my door burst open. Beast filled the doorway, his green eyes wild with panic as he scanned the room for threats. His chest heaved like he’d run up the stairs, and his claws were extended, ready for a fight.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His gaze swept over me, looking for injuries.

I wiped at my tear-stained cheeks, still disoriented from the vividness of the dream. “I...it was just a dream.” But even as I said it, I knew it had been more than that. It felt like a memory, distant and fragmented, but real.

Beast’s tense posture relaxed slightly when he realized there was no immediate danger, but his eyes remained fixed on my face. “You were crying out for your mother...and father.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “It was my mother…but not my dad. It was another man and he called me Aurora and his little princess.”

But it didn’t feel like a dream…it felt…real.

“It doesn’t make sense. Volaris is my father, and he’s never called me anything like that. He’s never looked at me the way that man did in the dream.”

The color drained from Beast’s face, and I saw something flicker in his eyes—recognition, guilt, and maybe even fear. He knew something about that name, something about what my dream meant.