Page 25 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

After tonight, I'm certain that Angelic isn't my enemy. She’s charged with safeguarding the secrets of the Nexus that supernatural exists on Earth, in this realm. And the curse makes me one of them, a hybrid, even if I feel like an intruder in it.

Her insistence that I ought to have seen this coming stings, a stark reminder of my past choices. I took the curse to shield Ronan, to protect my brother from the consequences of his folly, but instead, I allowed the darkness to fester unchecked. I may not fully belong to this world, but I can’t stand by while it unravels.

But my decisions shouldn't affect Briar.

"Leave her out of this."

"I cannot. None of us can." Angelic moves closer, her presence making frost spread across the floor. "The girl changes things. The magic responds to her in ways it never should. Ways that make the Council... nervous."

My wolf stirs restlessly, wanting to defend Briar from even the suggestion of threat. "The Council has no authority here."

"No?" Her smile carries centuries of secrets. "The Veil grows thin where your brother works his corruption. If his experiments continue, if the balance tips too far..." She spreads her hands, and ice crystals dance between her fingers. "The Council will act. With or without your cooperation."

The implications hit me like physical blows. The Council's intervention would mean more than exposure—it would mean the death of everyone connected to this place. To the curse.

To Briar.

"What do you want from me?"

"Want?" Angelic's laugh echoes off the stone walls. "I want you to wake up, Ronan Wolfe. Your curse feeds on isolation, yet you cling to it like armor. The girl's presence strengthens the castle's magic, but you push her away. You’ve managed to thrive financially in your frozen prison, raking in wealth while the darkness around you grows. Meanwhile, your brother twists the very fabric of our world, and you hide behind your riches."

"I'm not hiding?—"

"No?" She gestures at the crumbling walls. "Then explain why your home dies around you. Why the pack grows restless. Why every time you let yourself care for her, the magic surges stronger than it has in years."

The truth in her words burns. I press my palm against the wall, channeling power into the failing enchantments. But this time, I notice something different. The magic responds more readily, as if awakening from a long sleep.

"The curse was never meant to be permanent," Angelic says softly. "It was meant to contain a specific threat. But you turned it into a prison, not for Rurik's darkness, but for your own heart."

Outside, wolves howl—a sound of warning and recognition. Through our pack bond, I sense Rakan's unease. Something approaches. Something wrong.

"Time grows short." Angelic begins to fade, her form dissolving into the winter air. "Choose wisely, Ronan. The Council's patience is not endless."

Whispers in the Dark

RONAN

Angelic disappears, leaving me alone with too many dangerous truths. The castle groans around me, ancient stones shifting in the cold. Each creak and crack feels like a reminder of the weight pressing down on my shoulders, a chorus of echoes reflecting my inner turmoil. But now I hear something else in the sound—not decay, but awakening.

It's as if the very walls of Frostspire Keep resonate with a newfound energy, responding to the chaos that looms just out of reach. A shift in the air stirs hope within me, fleeting and fragile, yet insistent. As I take a deep breath, the chill lingers, but there is warmth beneath it, a flicker of magic beckoning to be harnessed.

Suddenly, that flicker intensifies as I sense Briar before I see her, her scent mingling with the lingering frost left by Angelic's presence. She rounds the corner, concern etched on her face, eyes searching for any sign of distress. The castle's magic surges in response, stones warming beneath my palm where moments ago they crumbled, as if recognizing her presence and welcoming her home.

"I heard voices." Her green eyes scan the damaged hallway, taking in the fresh cracks spider-webbing across the walls. "Is everything alright?"

The curse pulses through my blood, demanding I either claim her or push her away. No safe middle ground exists anymore. Not with the Council watching. Not with Rurik's experiments threatening everything.

"You shouldn't be here." The words come out harsher than intended, but I can't soften them. Not with Angelic's warning still ringing in my ears.

Briar steps closer, and the magic responds instantly. The dying enchantments in the wall flare to life, stones knitting themselves together where moments ago they were failing. Even the air changes—warmer, more alive.

"The castle's getting worse, isn't it?" She reaches toward the wall, but I catch her wrist before she can touch it. Her pulse jumps under my fingers.

"Don't." I release her quickly, though everything in me screams to pull her closer. "The magic is unstable."

Movement catches my eye as Fiona ducks into an alcove, her phone pressed to her ear. The sight sends warning signals through my enhanced senses. Cell phones barely function in this place due to the curse, and Fiona knows better than to take private calls within these walls.

"...understand, but it's not that simple," Fiona's whispered words reach my ears, distinctly clear despite the distance. "The magic shifts when she's around. Yes, I'll keep watching, but?—"

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