Page 33 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Fierro

I headed down the stairs, my claws gripping the banister harder than necessary. Why had I made that damn promise? I’d never promised not to kill someone who deserved killing before. And Volaris deserved killing more than most.

The bastard had been managing my accounts because I couldn’t, not like this. He’d stolen from me, gambled it away, and when he still couldn’t pay his debts, he handed over his daughter like she was just another transaction. What kind of father does that?

But after seeing that vision, there was no doubt in my mind that he’d killed her mother and that man. The way those dark shadows had writhed around him, lashing out with deadly precision, it had been vicious, calculated.

He’d definitely been performing black magic, wielding those shadowy tendrils like weapons. I couldn’t tell exactly how powerful he was from the brief glimpse, but the man and woman in the vision had seemed to struggle against him despite their own considerable magic. That took serious skill.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs, my jaw clenching as darker thoughts crept in. Was his name even David Volaris, or was that just another lie in a lifetime of deception?

But the question that haunted me the most was why. Why take a baby? What could an infant possibly offer someone like him?

Unless...unless she wasn’t just any baby. Unless she was special in ways even she didn’t understand yet.

I’d do anything to protect her—even make promises that might get me killed.

The thought sent a chill down my spine. If Volaris’ powers were ever unbound, he could be far more dangerous than I’d ever imagined.

I’d seen what he could do with those writhing shadows in the vision, and that might have been him at only partial strength.

Dark magic like that, wielded by someone with decades of experience?

It could tear me apart, curse or no curse.

And I didn’t trust witches. Not after Tinker Bell. Not after seeing how easily they could manipulate reality itself. The Witch’s Heart around my neck might protect me from some magic, but it wasn’t foolproof. If Volaris was powerful enough, if he knew the right spells...

The bigger question gnawing at me was why Volaris wasn’t using his powers now.

Someone must have bound them, just like they’d done to Rosalie.

She was at least twenty years old, so if his powers had been bound for that long, it would explain his apparent helplessness.

But what if those bindings were weakening?

What if bringing him here, where Rosalie’s growing magic was stirring the supernatural currents, could break whatever was holding his power in check ?

I didn’t have a choice, though. She needed answers and so did I. But if he tried to hurt her, I’d rip him apart.

Tinker Bell appeared to be not much older than Rosalie, so she wouldn’t have been powerful enough to bind him back then. But someone would know who had. Someone always knew.

And I needed to find out before I found myself facing a fully powered dark witch who had every reason to want me dead.

I needed some fresh air. I watched Colette and Marcel pull away from my estate in the SUV. The next time I saw them they’d bring back that bastard.

As they drove off, dust swirling in their wake, something caught my eye in the murky depths of the bayou.

A pair of golden eyes gleamed from between the moss-draped cypress trees, watching me with predatory intensity.

Then another pair appeared, and another.

I groaned, my hands automatically clenching into fists.

The damn wolves were back. There had to be at least three of them lurking out there in the shadows. But why? What was Trystan planning now?

Rage and frustration boiled over inside me.

I bolted toward the tree line, my boots splashing through the shallow water at the bayou’s edge, ready to take all my anger out on them.

But the moment I moved, they melted deeper into the swampland with fluid grace.

I stopped. Why were they retreating so easily? This smelled like a trap.

I made it to the very edge of my property before the familiar resistance hit me; that invisible wall that held me prisoner.

The air grew thick and heavy, warning me not to take another step.

They positioned themselves just beyond my reach, their golden eyes still glowing in the dim light filtering through Spanish moss.

They almost looked like they were laughing at me, tongues lolling out in canine grins that were too knowing, too human.

I snarled at them, but they remained infuriatingly out of reach. As long as they stayed where they were and didn’t come near Rosalie, that was all I cared about, but I wasn’t willing to assume that. I had to protect her, even though she now looked at me as the monster I truly was.

I spent the next hour patrolling my property line, torn between hunting for the wolves and worrying about leaving Rosalie unprotected in the house.

Every few minutes, I found myself glancing back toward the windows, listening for any sounds of movement from the wolves, but they had vanished as silently as they had appeared.

By the time I returned to the house, sweat dampening my shirt and my nerves still on edge, Rosalie had showered and dressed.

She sat at the kitchen counter wearing a sunny yellow sundress that made her skin glow, delicate sandals on her feet, her dark hair pulled up into a loose bun that left her graceful neck exposed.

She was eating a chocolate croissant, and as I watched, she licked one of her fingers to catch a drop of melted chocolate that had escaped.

The innocent gesture plucked at my heartstrings. So tempting, so utterly unaware of what she was doing to me.

She put down her croissant with trembling fingers, the pastry forgotten as tension filled the air between us. “Where were you?”

“I thought I saw something in the woods.” I kept my voice carefully controlled, not wanting to frighten her more than necessary .

Fear flashed in her eyes like a lightning strike, and her face went pale. “Wolves?”

I nodded silently, my jaw clenching as I kept my distance from her. Every muscle in my body ached to go to her, to pull her into my arms and promise her everything would be okay. But everything could go wrong so quickly.

She turned toward the kitchen window, her movements sharp and anxious as she glanced warily at the bayou. I could see her pulse pounding in the delicate hollow of her throat..

“I won’t let them harm you. You’ll be safe.”

“They won’t give up, will they?” She wrapped her arms around her waist defensively, and I caught the slight tremor going through her body.

My hands clenched into fists at my side. “I fear your father has made a deal with him.”

“He must be desperate.” Panic flickered across her delicate features, and she bit her lower lip hard enough to leave marks. I wanted to tear Volaris apart for putting that terror in her eyes.

“I’ll give him the money to pay Trystan Hunter.” The words rushed out before I could stop them.

She frowned, confusion replacing some of the fear etched on her face. “You would?”

“Yes, I would.” I stepped closer, unable to stop myself. “You don’t want to be sold to the wolves, do you?”

The image of her belonging to Trystan—of him touching her, trying to seduce her—filled me with such rage I’d tear through the barriers to reach her, even if killed me.

Even knowing it would be suicide. The magic holding me here was lethal, but the idea of her in another man’s arms made death feel like an acceptable price .

“No. I don’t see why everyone wants to buy me, including you. I was just a poor waitress, trying to make ends meet.”

“And a powerful witch.” I kept my hands clenched at my sides.

“But you didn’t know that when you bought me.” Her eyes flashed with frustration as she gestured helplessly. “I didn’t even know that.”

“Your father knew exactly what kind of power you had when he sold you to me.”

She rolled her eyes with exasperation, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I don’t think so. Knowing him, he thought my powers would remain dormant.”

I tilted my head, studying her face carefully. The irony was almost painful, knowing what I’d seen in that vision “Why would he think that?”

“He always makes decisions based on the odds. He must have had a reason why he didn’t think I’d come into my powers. Do you think he did something to me?”

I shrugged. “Possibly. That’s something I plan to wring out of him.”

Because his own magic was bound, I could see him binding hers too. Volaris wouldn’t want to be vulnerable.

“I’m curious. Do you have any pictures of your mother?”

She gave me a sad, wistful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“No. Dad was so angry she left us that he burned all of her photos in a rage. I was only three years old when that happened. So I’ve never seen a picture of my mother.

But he says I look like her.” She bowed her head, her shoulders sagging with old pain.

“I think that’s why I always disappoint him.

He thinks I’m going to end up like her, a selfish woman who abandons everyone. ”

Anger bubbled inside me like molten lava, hot and violent. The bastard had made her believe she was unwanted, unworthy, just because she reminded him of someone else. My claws extended involuntarily, and I had to force them back. It took me a couple of seconds before I could speak.

“Rosalie, you’re the most selfless person I have ever met.

Your whole life has been devoted to others, sacrificing your own happiness for people who don’t deserve it.

Your father is the selfish one. If he doesn’t appreciate all the sacrifices you’ve made for him, then he’s a fool.

” The admission left me feeling exposed; something I had never experienced before. I was always guarded, never vulnerable.

She looked up with wide, startled eyes, tears clinging to her dark eyelashes like dewdrops. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the sound of a car door slamming cut through the moment like a blade.

My head snapped toward the sound, every muscle in my body going rigid.

I strode to the living room window and watched as Colette and Marcel escorted David Volaris up the front steps, his familiar slouched posture and shifty eyes making my blood boil.

Fury hit me like ice water—cold, sharp, and immediate—at the sight of the man who had spent twenty years tormenting the woman I?—

“Remember, don’t hurt him or we’ll never know the truth.” Rosalie gently put her hand on my arm.

I didn’t answer her, my jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might crack.

My hands were shaking with the effort of controlling my anger.

If I broke this promise, I would lose her forever.

But seeing him walk back into my home, knowing what he’d done, made that promise feel like a noose around my neck.