Page 23 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

Suddenly, a deep growl rumbles from his chest, resonating against my skin. It’s a sound filled with raw desire, a reflection of his wolf rising to the surface, as if he too is caught in the magicof the moment. His hands never relent, guiding me through the aftershocks, their strength grounding me even as I float higher.

It’s as if our breaths merge, a dance of shared pleasure that transcends all boundaries, melding the human and the beast within him. My world narrows to just us—his growl, my cries, and the pulsing energy that's severing our souls together.

When I finally come down, I'm breathless and boneless, leaning heavily against him. Ronan catches me, lifting me easily into his arms, and I bury my face in his neck, my heart still pounding.

Then, abruptly, Ronan tears himself away. The loss of contact is physical pain, and I reach for him automatically, but he's already across the room. The temperature plummets instantly, frost spreading across the windows in delicate, deadly patterns.

"Return to your room," he says roughly, though his body visibly strains toward mine. "The curse—it's too strong. If I lose control?—"

"That's not what's happening here." I straighten from the wall, noting how the magic follows my movement like a loyal pet. "The curse fights against this because it knows we're stronger together. Look around, Ronan. Really look."

He does, taking in the evidence of our connection. The books settling back onto their shelves, glowing faintly. The candles burning brighter than they have in days. The very air seems clearer, as if our kiss has temporarily lifted some of the darkness that usually clings to these walls.

"It's destroying you," he whispers, and I'm not sure if he's talking to me or himself. "My touch, my curse—it's poison."

"No." I take a step toward him, and the magic surges hopefully. "Your brother's darkness is poison. This—us—this is something else entirely."

For a moment, something vulnerable flashes across his features. The wolf peers out through his eyes, and I can sense its longing—not just for my body, but for the connection I'm offering.

The curse pulses once, violently, making him flinch.

"I can't." The words sound like they're being torn from his throat. "I won't be the one who destroys you."

He turns and strides from the room, leaving me alone with the swirling magic and the echo of his pain. But this time, I don't feel rejected. I feel more certain than ever that I'm right where I need to be.

The library doors swing open silently, inviting me in. Ember—the castle's spirit—seems to understand what I need. As I step inside, the magic flows around me in warm waves, stronger than I've ever felt it. Books shift on their shelves, their spines glowing with an inner light that pulses in time with my heartbeat.

Ancient symbols appear on the walls, shimmering like starlight. They remind me of the markings I saw in my vision of Rurik's ritual, but these feel different—purer somehow. As I watch, they begin to change, forming new patterns that speak of binding magic and breaking curses.

The message is clear: the castle itself is trying to show me the way. Our love isn't weakening the magic—it's transforming it, breaking through the darkness of Rurik's curse with something more powerful.

"I understand," I whisper to the watching shadows. To Ember, to the castle, to whatever force keeps drawing me deeper into this mystery. "And I'm not giving up."

When Secrets Speak

RONAN

The stone crumbles beneath my touch, ancient magic seeping from the cracks like blood from a wound. Another section of Frostspire Keep failing, another piece of my home dying. I press my palm against the wall, channeling what power I can into the weakening enchantments.

"That won't help for long." Angelic's voice cuts through my concentration. She stands in the shadows of the damaged hallway, her platinum hair gleaming despite the dim light. "The castle's magic grows more unstable by the hour."

"I'm aware." My words come out as a growl. The wall beneath my hand pulses weakly, like a fading heartbeat. "Unless you have actual solutions to offer?—"

"Solutions require understanding." She moves closer, frost spreading where her feet touch the floor. "And you, Ronan Wolfe, have been willfully blind to much."

Thunder rumbles outside, and the ancient chandelier above us sways ominously. Dark clouds gather beyond the windows, mirroring the tension building in my chest. The curse writhes beneath my skin, responding to my frustration.

"Speak plainly or leave."

"Very well." Her otherworldly green eyes fix on mine. "Your brother's experiments continue. Each one pulls at the fabric of this place, corrupting what remains of its original magic. But that's not the real problem, is it?"

I turn back to the damaged wall, focusing on channeling energy into the failing stones. But her next words freeze me in place.

"The real problem is that you've been fighting the wrong battle all along. The curse doesn't feed on power, Ronan. It feeds on isolation."

The temperature drops several degrees. Frost patterns spread across the nearest window, forming shapes that remind me uncomfortably of the symbols from Rurik's dark rituals. "What do you know about the curse?"

"More than you've allowed yourself to learn." She traces a finger along the crumbling stonework, leaving trails of ice in her wake. "The Council sent me to observe, to determine if your... situation posed a threat to the Veil. But what I've seen is something else entirely."

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