Page 14 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

The curse's chains pull tighter when I try to step onto the grounds in human form. Even after all these years, the sensation makes my skin crawl. Through the frosted glass, I watch Rakan lead the pack on their patrol, their dark forms moving like shadows through the deepening afternoon gloom. They sense it too—something's changing.

A flicker of movement catches my attention. Briar walks through the garden below, her auburn hair bright against the grey day. The sight of her makes my chest ache. After our kiss in the library, the magic surged stronger than ever, but that only makes her more dangerous. To herself. To everything.

The temperature drops suddenly, turning my breath to mist. I don't need to turn around to know who's arrived.

"Getting sentimental, Ronan?" Angelic's voice cuts through the silence like ice. "That's unlike you."

When I face her, she's exactly as I remember—tall, otherworldly, with platinum hair and those unnaturally green eyes that seem to glow. Her presence makes the castle's magic recoil, creating pockets of cold air that follow her movement.

"What do you want, Angelic?"

Her lips curve in that cryptic smile I've come to distrust. "Love can be a powerful force," she says, moving to stand beside me at the window. "But it often comes at a price. Especially here."

My wolf stirs restlessly, responding to the threat in her tone. "Speak plainly or leave."

"Very well." She turns those glowing eyes on me. "Your little librarian is changing things. The curse responds to her in ways it shouldn't. Ways that could be... problematic."

"She has nothing to do with this." But even as I say it, I remember how the library's magic surged when we kissed, how books seem to find their way into her hands, how the very walls of Frostspire Keep lean toward her like flowers seeking sun.

"Doesn't she?" Angelic traces a pattern on the frosted glass. "The castle's magic weakens by the day, yet strengthens in her presence. The Nexus stirs, sensing the shift. And darker forces are taking notice."

A growl builds in my throat. "Is that a threat?"

"A warning." She steps closer, and the air crystallizes between us. "Your curse was meant to contain a specific threat. But love has a way of complicating such bindings. Of changing their nature."

"Get to the point."

"The point, dear Ronan, is that your feelings for her could accelerate everything. The castle's decay. The staff's deterioration. Your own transformation." Her voice softens to something almost like sympathy. "Can you really protect her when you can't even protect yourself?"

The truth in her words stings worse than the cold. Below, Briar has stopped to examine one of the crumbling walls, her hand reaching out as if she can sense the failing magic. She doesn't understand the danger she's in—the danger she might be causing.

"The curse was never meant to be broken," Angelic continues. "It was meant to contain. To protect. Your brother's actions required... specific measures."

"Leave Rurik out of this." My hands clench at my sides, claws threatening to emerge.

"But that's just it—he was never truly out of it." She moves away from the window, her presence leaving trails of frost in her wake. "The curse is part of a delicate balance. Your librarian's influence could upset everything. And there are those who would take advantage of such... instability."

A memory flashes—Rurik standing in a circle of dark magic, power crackling through the air as something vital broke inside the castle's foundations. I push it away. "What do you expect me to do?"

"What you must." Her eyes hold mine. "Unless you want her blood on your hands when everything falls apart."

The words hit like physical blows. Through the window, I watch Briar disappear back into the castle. Every instinct screams to go to her, to hold her close and never let go. But Angelic's warning echoes in my mind, mixing with my own fears.

Movement in a side corridor catches my attention—Fiona ducking into an alcove, phone pressed to her ear. The sight is wrong on multiple levels. Electronics barely function here, and Fiona knows better than to take private calls in the castle.

"...understand, but it's not that simple," her whispered words reach my enhanced hearing. "The magic is different when she's around. Yes, I'll keep watching, but—" She spots me and quickly ends the call, hurrying away before I can question her.

I file the suspicion away for later. Right now, I have a more immediate problem. Briar's scent grows stronger—she's heading this way. Angelic's lips curve knowingly.

"Remember, Ronan. Sometimes the kindest cut is the cleanest." She melts into the shadows, leaving me alone with the weight of her warning.

Briar rounds the corner, and the sight of her hits me like a physical blow. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her green eyes bright with that determination that makes my wolf want to howl. The curse writhes beneath my skin, demanding I either claim her or push her away.

"Ronan?" She steps closer, concern creasing her brow. "Is everything alright? I thought I heard voices?—"

"You need to leave." The words come out harsh, deliberately cold. "Pack your things. I'll have Alistair arrange transportation."

She stiffens, hurt flashing across her face before determination takes its place. "No."

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