Page 9 of Beast of Blood and Roses (Dark Ever After Fairytales #1)

Chapter Nine

Rosalie

I had moved away from the door, afraid the beast would break it down after I declined his breakfast invitation.

Then came a hit against the wood that made the entire door rattle in its frame, the sound echoing through the room like thunder.

My stomach growled impatiently, but I couldn’t bear to be near him.

He was terrifying—so angry, so furious—and I was so small next to him.

I could still see those claws, long and razor sharp, and all I could think about was how easily they could rip me apart, how he towered over me like some nightmare come to life.

Then there was that statue of Colette. I could still see her eyes opening, watching me. This place was a nightmare of things coming to life and my father abandoned me here, sold me to him to save his own hide. I don’t know why that surprised me. David Volaris had always looked out for number one.

I always came in second, third, fourth. I was only important when he needed something from me, usually money, and now me.

I had to get out of here and away from everything—away from New Orleans, away from my father and his endless cycle of gambling and debt. I needed to disappear somewhere no one could find me, start fresh where no one knew my name or my history.

A soft, timid knock brought me out of my thoughts. I moved away from the door, my body trembling.

“Rosalie?” It was Colette. What was she? Definitely not human.

The door slowly opened and she stepped inside.

I huddled against the opposite wall, terror locking my muscles in place. “Stay away from me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, mon petit . I only came in to check on you.” Her voice was gentle, almost motherly, but that somehow made it worse.

“What are you?”

She lowered her head, shame washing over her delicate features. “I’m a cursed vampire.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

But my heart wasn’t listening to my brain and it was racing around in my chest like a Maserati, crushing my lungs. The room felt like it was spinning. “Vampire? They’re real?”

“Yes. My husband, Fierro, me, we’re all vampires.” She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging with misery. Pain flickered across her face. “Or at least we were.”

“Fierro? Who is Fierro?”

She sighed. “ Monsieur Fierro Bastia is the Beast.”

Horror clawed up my throat. I was trapped in a house full of monsters. I had to get word to Mr. Danvers. He was my only hope. He was the only one that I could call who might be willing to help me. He always said I was his favorite waitress. That meant something, right?

“What do you mean were?” I asked.

“We can no longer feed on blood. We eat like humans, but we haven’t forgotten about blood. A witch placed a powerful curse on us.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “My husband, Marcel, and I turn into statues right after dusk until right after dawn, and Fierro was transformed into a hideous beast.”

Horror and fascination warred in my chest. “Why?”

“Because monsieur made a deadly mistake.”

I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask. “You mean he killed someone?”

She laughed bitterly. “Oui. Someone he shouldn’t have. I can’t tell you more. Monsieur forbids us to talk about it. All I can tell you is that unless monsieur can find true love, we will remain this way forever.”

I cocked an eyebrow. She was definitely betting on the wrong horse—me, some nobody waitress from New Orleans, breaking a dark curse?

It was ridiculous. But maybe if I played along with their delusion, they wouldn’t be watching as closely and I could escape.

“So that’s why I’m here? You think I can break the curse? ”

“If you got to know monsieur ?—”

“How can you say that?” I snapped, anger flaring in my chest. “He’s a murderer. According to you he killed someone then got cursed. He’s probably murdered countless others.”

“He’s a vampire,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

“I got that the first time.” I frowned, as if thinking it over. “So you really think I change him somehow? ”

“I hope so. He’s lonely.” Her eyes filled with sadness. “Not just since he was cursed but even before that. He has always hidden behind his poker games and being an enforcer.”

I shook my head, trying to process everything.

Working at Crimson Stakes, I’d heard all kinds of rumors about what happened in the bayou, but nothing about a cursed mansion.

Surely someone would have noticed if wealthy people just vanished.

“Where did you come from? How come no one knows about you?”

“My husband and I came from Paris, but Fierro came from Italy. He’s the one who turned us. We were dying from the plague and he saved us.”

My curiosity wasn’t satisfied. If I was going to be trapped here, I needed to understand what I was dealing with. “Who turned him?”

She watched me carefully. “I’m not sure if you know him, but Enzo Di Salvo. Fierro is one of his enforcers.”

A tremor ran through me. No this wasn’t possible. “Wait, you mean Enzo Di Salvo from Crimson Stakes?”

“ Oui , do you know him?”

I licked my nervous lips and a tremor of fear shot through me, pinning me to the wall. I felt like a stuck butterfly. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Then Angelo Santi…” My voice trailed off.

“Is the king of the vampire mafia,” she confirmed gently. “You know of him too, oui ?”

Black dots swam in front of my eyes. “I…I work for him.” I stammered, my whole world tilting on its axis. “I’m a cocktail…cocktail waitress.”

Colette clasped my arm and I jerked back violently, my skin crawling at the contact. She dropped her hand immediately, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry, mon petit . I didn’t mean to startle you, but you don’t look well. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

I blinked slowly, struggling to focus through the fog of despair.

“Last night…I think.” I was barely concentrating on what she was saying.

My escape plan had just evaporated like smoke.

Fierro worked for Enzo Di Salvo and Angelo Santi.

They were all vampires, meaning they wouldn’t help me.

And if they were all connected...what if Mr. Danvers was one of them too?

What if my only hope for rescue was also a monster?

The walls felt like they were closing in.

I was trapped, completely, utterly trapped.

My chest tightened as if I was wearing a corset and someone pulled too tightly, cutting off my air.

There was no one else I could contact for help.

I was on my own.

She stuck out her hand. “Rosalie, please, come with me. No one will harm you.”

I stared at it as if it were a coiled snake, ready to strike. “But he said if I didn’t eat with him, then I wouldn’t eat at all.” The hopelessness in my words only made my hunger worse.

“ Monsieur will not know,” she said firmly, maternal protectiveness radiating from her voice. “I will not allow you starve. Please, come with me. I will make you a French breakfast, no?”

“I don’t want you to go to all this trouble for me.” I flashed her a weak smile as my stomach clenched with desperate hunger. “Something simple like toast would be fine.”

“Nonsense, chérie . Come. Besides monsieur , I haven’t been able to cook for anyone in a very long time.

” She winked and took my hand. The warmth of her skin was startling after touching her cold, marble-hard statue form.

I found myself allowing her to take my hand, starved for any kindness in this nightmare.

I took a quivering breath, steeling myself for more revelations. “Are there any other supernatural creatures here that I should worry about?”

She stared straight ahead. “No. It’s just us.”

The tension in my shoulders eased and I rubbed my forehead. At least I wasn’t going to run into the wolfman or Frankenstein. I didn’t want to think that all the monsters were real. “How do people not know about vampires?”

“We keep our world secret. Otherwise we would be hunted.” She held up a hand, obviously seeing my next question forming. “And before you ask, there are hunters and they are as ruthless as we are.”

Hunters? Like those guys from that monster-hunting show? This was too much. I gripped the railing hard. “I know it’s morning, but I think I could use a drink.”

Colette gave me a concerning look. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little overwhelmed.”

She put her arm around my waist and escorted me down the stairs.

Her touch was surprisingly comforting, warm and gentle, nothing like the cold marble I’d felt when she was a statue.

For the first time since arriving here, I didn’t feel completely alone.

Marcel appeared at the bottom of the grand staircase, his posture formal as it had been the day before, though I noticed dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday.

“What has happened? Why is she out of her room?”

I looked at him warily, wondering if he was going to run up and tell the beast.

“She is hungry, Marcel. The poor thing hasn’t eaten or drank anything. I will not have her locked in her room starving and dying of thirst.”

Marcel stared up at the stairs as if he was afraid the beast would come charging down the stairs, demanding an explanation for why I wasn’t in my room.

“She needs a drink, Marcel. Fix her a nice mimosa while I fix her breakfast.”

“Mimosa? Are you sure?”

“Nothing but the best here.”

I shifted uncomfortably, my stomach knotting with anxiety.

This felt like being caught between my parents during one of their fights, except the stakes were so much higher.

If I caused problems between them, I’d be completely alone in this nightmare.

“Really, you don’t have to go to all this trouble. I can make my own?—”

“Nonsense,” Colette cut me off gently. “You are our guest.”

The word guest made my gut twist. I wasn’t a guest. I was payment for my father’s debt.

Having them wait on me like I was someone important felt wrong, like I was pretending to be something I wasn’t.

Back home, I was the one making breakfast, cleaning up, taking care of everyone else.

I was the one who went to work every day, sometimes pulling double shifts, just to pay the bills.

This felt like they were trying to fatten up the sacrificial calf so I could seduce the beast.

She led me into an immaculate white-marble kitchen that looked like something from a cooking show.

Marble countertops stretched across custom cabinets painted in pristine cream, while copper pots hung from an ornate wrought-iron rack above a massive Viking range.

A crystal chandelier cast warm light over the central island, where fresh herbs grew in terra cotta planters.

French doors opened onto what looked like a courtyard garden, letting in dappled morning sunlight that made the whole space feel ethereal.

Despite the mansion’s dark secrets, this kitchen felt like a sanctuary: warm, inviting, and completely at odds with the supernatural horrors lurking beyond its walls.

She motioned me to sit on a fancy barstool upholstered in buttery leather that probably cost more than I made in a month.

I perched on the edge of the stool, afraid to fully settle in, my worn, faded black sundress a stark contrast to the pristine elegance surrounding me.Everything in this kitchen screamed wealth, from the crystal stemware hanging above the island to the imported Italian tiles beneath my feet.

Colette brought out a carton of eggs, a loaf of crusty French bread that looked like it came from an actual bakery, and thick-cut bacon that was nothing like the cheap stuff I bought at the corner store.

Rich, savory smells began to fill the air, and I knew they would definitely permeate through the house.

My mouth watered despite my anxiety, but guilt twisted around my rib cage like a snake.

This felt like accepting charity from my captors.

I shifted uncomfortably on the stool, the leather creaking softly beneath me, and kept looking over my shoulder toward the doorway.

Every shadow made me jump. My heart rammed up my throat as I imagined heavy footsteps on the stairs above.

If the beast caught me sitting here like some pampered princess while he’d explicitly told me I wouldn’t eat unless it was with him, he wouldn’t just be angry, he’d be furious.

And I could only imagine what he could do to me, what those sharp teeth and claws could do.