Page 8 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)

Chapter Eight

Fierro

Something was wrong. The certainty jolted me from my brooding contemplation of the cursed painting in my bedroom.

I’d moved it here after the witch arrived, too paranoid to leave it in my study where she might discover it.

Every muscle tensed. No one had made a sound in my house for months—not since the last person who’d tried to cheat at one of my weekly poker games.

I bolted from my room, the door slamming against the wall as I rushed into the dimly lit corridor. The crystal chandeliers overhead flickered, casting dancing shadows across the faded grandeur of what had once been a palace and was now my prison.

My massive paws padded against the cold marble as I moved toward the source of my unease.

Colette met me in the hallway, her slender form no longer the cold marble she’d been cursed to be each night. The last shimmers of stone-to-flesh magic still glistened on her skin like diamond dust. Her eyes, usually calm, held a spark of genuine worry.

“ Monsieur ,” she said, her French accent more pronounced in her distress, “I’m so sorry.

The girl escaped from her room.” She gestured with her hand, the silver bracelets at her wrist—enchanted bindings that marked her servitude to my bloodline—clinked softly.

“I was changing back from my statue form when she found me. The transformation—” she gestured helplessly “—I’m afraid the mon petit is quite frightened. She saw...everything.”

I narrowed my eyes, feeling the familiar burning sensation as they scanned the hallway. Ever since Tinker Bell had cursed me into this monstrous form, my senses had become razor sharp, even beyond what they were when I was merely a vampire.

“She escaped from her room?” My voice was dangerously soft, each word coated in frost. Decades of enforcing order in New Orleans’s underworld had taught me the price of disobedience. “I told her to remain inside. For her own protection.”

I told her it would keep her safer from me. My jaw clenched, fangs grinding together as my vision blurred red at the edges. I had a bad temper as a vampire, but it was a hundred times worse as a beast. The frustration and anger of remaining this way broke my control like glass.

I placed my ear against the door and I could hear soft sniffles. They tugged at my heart, but I refused to comfort her. I had told her not to come out of her room until daybreak.

“Check on her, Colette. Make sure she stays put this time.”

“ Oui, monsieur. ”

I tugged at my sleeve with a careful claw, a habit from my human days.

My jaw clenched with frustration. Colette had done her best with the alterations, but even with her remarkable skill at tailoring, the clothes never quite fit my monstrous proportions.

Another reminder of my imprisonment in this estate—unable to leave, unable to visit my own tailor in the city.

I ran a clawed hand through my fur, the strands catching on my talons.

“And...tell her I won’t harm her. Even if what she saw might suggest otherwise. ”

Colette raised her hand, then froze mid-motion. Her shoulders tensed as she slowly turned to face me, wringing her hands. “ Monsieur ?”

“What?” I wasn’t used to my orders not being followed immediately, and the delay grated against my already frayed nerves.

“The girl has been in her room all night…” Colette’s eyes darted between me and the floor.

“And?” I crossed my massive arms, the fabric of my jacket straining against the movement.

“She may be hungry…” The words came out in a rush, and Colette took a small step backward.

“Then bring her some food.” I waved a dismissive claw, already turning away.

“No.” Colette’s voice strengthened, surprising me. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I thought maybe you could invite her for breakfast.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, my spine going rigid. Slowly I turned back to face her, my eyes narrowing into slits. “You want me to eat with a witch?”

Colette’s newfound courage seemed to drain from her face, but she pressed on.

“ Monsieur , I know she’s a witch and your feelings about witches.

” She lowered her head, her hands trembling slightly.

“But this may be the only chance for us to break the curse.” Her voice cracked with desperation. “I don’t want to be a statue forever.”

The raw pain in her voice cut through my rage like a blade, and surprisingly, my anger faltered.

I glanced at the door, my chest tightening with an unfamiliar nervousness.

How bad could it be? My claws unconsciously traced the outline of the amulet beneath my shirt.

She wouldn’t be able to curse me with this protection.

Besides, it wasn’t like women were knocking down my door to get to me.

The bitter truth of that made my jaw clench.

Colette may be right. She may be my last chance.

A rush of resentment coursed through me.

Tinker Bell probably had orchestrated this, trying to force me to fall in love with the enemy.

The cruel irony wasn’t lost on me. I hated to disappoint her twisted plans, but that wasn’t happening.

My heart would remain as cold as the marble halls of this cursed estate.

I wrapped my knuckles on the door, harder than necessary. “Will you join me for breakfast?”

The muffled sniffles stopped. “What?”

The disbelief in her voice sparked my temper like a match to kindling. Heat rushed up my neck. “I said you will join me for breakfast.”

“Say please.” Colette clasped my arm, her touch gentle but urgent. Her eyes pleaded with me to control my temper.

I forced the words through gritted teeth, swallowing my pride like shattered glass. “Will you please join me for breakfast? ”

“I’m not hungry.”

She was defying me?! The audacity was like a bucket of ice water being thrown over my head.

First, Colette questioning my orders, and now my prisoner outright refusing me.

My vision tinged red at the edges. The beast inside me roared for dominance, demanding I tear down this door and drag her out by her hair.

I slammed my fist against the wooden door with such force that dust rained from the frame above. The sound echoed through the hallway like a gunshot. “Fine!” I snarled, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “If you don’t want to eat with me, you can go ahead and starve!”

But even as the words left my mouth, something hollow opened in my chest—a yawning chasm of disappointment I refused to acknowledge.

“ Monsieur ?”

Colette called out to me, but I didn’t answer her. My muscles were so tight I thought they’d snap. I stormed back to my room, the floorboards creaking underneath my weight. If I stayed, I was afraid I’d break down the door and drag her to breakfast. And God knows what I’d do her after that.

As a vampire, I had no problem seducing women. A look, a smile, a whispered promise, and they’d melt into my arms. But now, I couldn’t even get my prisoner to eat with me. The humiliation burned in my throat. What if the curse was truly impossible to break?

The hopelessness needled me like porcupine quills. I needed a fucking drink.

Rage boiled up from somewhere deep and primitive.

Colette was a fool if she thought this witch could ever fall in love with me or me with her.

My lips curled into a snarl. She was selfish and cruel like all witches and not to be trusted.

Of course she’d rather starve than spend five minutes with me.

I grabbed a bottle of bourbon out of my study with shaking claws, the glass nearly slipping from my grip. The amber liquid sloshed as I headed toward my bedroom, each step heavier than the last. Even the alcohol couldn’t numb the bitter taste of rejection that coated my tongue like poison.

I slumped into my chair like I always did, the familiar weight of dread settling into my bones. My eyes found the cursed painting hanging on the opposite wall—the one thing I both craved and feared to look at.

It had changed again.

My heart lurched in my chest. I had more fur in the picture than I did just a few minutes ago, my face more bestial, more monstrous.

The human features I’d been clinging to were disappearing before my eyes.

Normally, the painting only changed every couple of weeks, giving me time to mentally prepare for each horrifying transformation. But something was different now.

Panic clawed at my throat. The changes were accelerating ever since she’d arrived. In just one day, the painting had transformed more than it usually did in weeks.

My hands shook as I gripped the armrests of my chair, claws digging deep gouges into the leather. Maybe it was the damn witch. The thought hit me like ice water in my veins. Maybe her magic was exacerbating the painting’s transformations, seeping through these walls like poison.

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Which meant this damn amulet was an illusion—a cruel joke. My only protection, the one thing that had given me any confidence to face her, was worthless.

Terror and rage warred in my chest as the horrible truth sank in. Or was it the truth? My mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. I was being cursed again. I had to be. And this time, I might not survive it.