Page 15 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

"This isn't a request, Miss Everly." I let ice coat each syllable, though it kills something inside me to do it. "Your presence here is no longer welcome."

"Because of what happened in the library?" She takes another step forward, and the air between us charges with possibility. "We both felt it, Ronan. The magic responded to us. It grew stronger?—"

"It grew unstable," I cut her off. "Dangerous. Like everything else in this cursed place." I force myself to meet her eyes, to let her see nothing but cold authority. "Go home, Miss Everly. Before you get hurt."

"You're lying." Her voice shakes slightly, but her gaze never wavers. "Something's frightened you. Someone's threatened?—"

"The only threat here is your continued presence." I turn away before she can see the truth in my eyes. "Leave. Today."

The castle's magic dims noticeably, the air growing colder as hope bleeds from the stones. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Briar reach for me, then let her hand fall.

"Fine," she says quietly. "But we both know this isn't over."

Her footsteps fade down the corridor, taking every bit of warmth with them. The curse pulses through my blood, angry at being denied. Even the walls seem to shudder, shadows deepening in the corners as if the castle itself protests my choice.

Through the window, I watch darkness gather over the grounds. Rakan's howl echoes in the distance—a sound of mourning that tears at something deep in my chest. The wolf inside me rages, wanting to chase after Briar, to explain, to beg her to understand.

But Angelic's warning rings in my ears: "Can you really protect her when you can't even protect yourself?"

The lights flicker and dim throughout the castle, responding to the pain I can't allow myself to feel. In the deepening gloom, I catch another glimpse of Fiona, moving furtively through the shadows. Her earlier phone call nags at my instincts, but I can't focus on that mystery now.

Not when every fiber of my being screams to run after Briar, to take back the lies, to pull her close and damn the consequences.

Instead, I press my forehead against the cold glass, watching frost patterns spread from my touch. The curse coils tighter, as if punishing me for pushing away the one person who might have helped break it. But better this pain than her blood on my hands.

Better a clean break than watching her die because I was too selfish to let her go.

The castle groans around me, ancient stones shifting in the cold. Magic seeps through the walls like bleeding wounds, leaving trails of frost in its wake. I close my eyes against the evidence of decay, but I can't shut out the truth.

I'm losing her. Losing everything.

But at least she'll be alive to hate me for it.

A wolf's howl cuts through the gathering dark—Rakan again, but this time there's warning in the sound. Something's changed. Something's coming. And for the first time since taking on this curse, I'm truly afraid of what tomorrow might bring.

Because tomorrow, she'll be gone. And with her, any hope of warmth in this frozen hell I've made for myself.

The curse pulses once more, a dark satisfaction in its grip. After all, isn't this what I deserve? To be alone? To watch everything I touch crumble to dust?

In the distance, thunder rolls across lead-grey skies. A storm is coming.

And I've just sent away the only light that might have helped me weather it.

The Darkest Night

BRIAR

The lantern's flame flickers violently in my hands, struggling against the unnatural darkness that seems to press in from every corner of Frostspire Keep. It's been like this all evening—each light we place growing dimmer faster than the last, as if the Winter Solstice is determined to drown us all in shadows.

"Here's another one, Miss Everly." Nolan passes me a heavy brass lantern, its ornate metalwork warm against my fingers in that strange way I've come to associate with magic. Like everything else in this castle, it feels alive, aware. Even now, after Ronan's harsh dismissal yesterday, objects still react to my touch as if they're trying to tell me something.

"Thank you, Nolan." I place the lantern carefully on a carved stone shelf, trying not to remember how Ronan looked when he ordered me to leave—the silver gleam in his eyes, the way the temperature dropped with each cold word.

"Mother says the castle always gets like this on the longest night," Nolan says, retrieving another lantern from his basket. His young face is serious in the wavering light, making him seem older than his years. "But it feels different this year. Like the darkness is hungry."

I pause in adjusting a crooked candle, struck by his choice of words. "Hungry how?"

He shrugs, but his movements are careful as he lights another wick. "Just... hungry. Like it's trying to eat all the light. Even the magic feels different." His eyes widen slightly, as if realizing he's said too much. "I mean?—"

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