Page 26 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

As she spots me, she abruptly ends the call and hurries away before I can question her. The curse writhes under my skin, recognizing something in her retreat that sets my wolf on edge, a raw urge demanding my attention.

"Ronan?" Briar's voice pulls me back to the moment. She stands closer now, warmth radiating from her, cutting through the perpetual chill of the curse. "What's wrong?"

Everything. Nothing.

The castle dies around us while my brother's corruption spreads. The Council is watching, waiting for an excuse to intervene. And here Briar stands, somehow making the magic stronger while putting herself in more danger with every passing moment.

“Go back to your room.” I turn away, unable to let her see the struggle in my eyes. “Please.”

I hear the soft intake of her breath, the way her heartbeat quickens, and I know she caught the plea in my voice. The magic pulses between us, stronger than ever, making the shadows retreat and the stones sing with possibility—a possibility I know I can’t afford to explore right now.

“Ronan,” Briar says softly, stepping closer, her concern palpable. “I can help.”

Her words tug at something deep within me, igniting a flicker of hope before I harden my resolve.

“I can’t risk it. You have to trust me on this.” The castle's spirits sigh as if echoing my thoughts, but the truth is I’m far too invested in her safety to invite danger into her life.

“Please...” I add, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come to you shortly and explain everything. Just… stay in your room for now.”

The magic hums with tension as she processes my words. I catch a glimpse of uncertainty in her expressive eyes, yet there’s also a spark of understanding—she knows there’s more at stake than what lies between us. I can see her desire to help me, to unravel the complexities of my world, and it simultaneously soothes and terrifies me.

I can feel how much I’ve come to need her—not just for my sanity, but like the castle's magic itself, she becomes a vital part of my being. There’s a connection that grows stronger with each passing moment, promising warmth and light even in the darkest corners of Frostspire Keep.

But possibility is dangerous. Hope is dangerous. And Briar Everly is the most dangerous of all.

“Trust me,” I urge, my own voice cracking, betraying the turmoil within. “I’ll find you soon.”

As I walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that pushing her away is becoming increasingly impossible. I take one last glance back at her, my heart heavy with the weight of what I’m trying to protect.

Each moment spent with Briar weaves her deeper into the fabric of my life, and the thought of severing that connection weighs on me more than I want to admit.

I listen to her footsteps fade, each step taking a piece of warmth with it, leaving the air around me colder and more sterile.

The castle’s ancient stones seem to sigh in sorrow as I turn my focus away from her, directing my attention back toward the alcove where Fiona disappeared. As I do, I notice frost creeping across the stones again.

The curse tightens its grip, punishing me for even these brief moments of connection. It seems to sense my turmoil, my indecision, and it revels in the chaos I cannot fully control.

Something is coming. I can feel it thrumming beneath the surface, echoing in Fiona's furtive calls and Angelic's subtle warnings.

The atmosphere is tense and strained, as if the very magic of the castle is fighting against its own decay. And somehow, strangely enough, Briar stands at the center of it all, like a beacon amidst the encroaching dark.

The question is whether I can protect her from what's coming—or if I'll be the thing she needs protection from most.

I watch Fiona slip around the corner, her phone still clutched to her chest. The sight raises a new wave of suspicion in me. I focus my senses, straining to catch even a fragment of her conversation as the urgency in her tone piques my interest.

“Rurik... I need your guidance,” she breathes out, her voice laced with desperation. "The magic shifts when she's around. Yes, I'll keep watching, but-"

She cuts off abruptly as I round the corner. Her eyes widen, and she shoves the phone into her pocket. "Mr. Wolfe! I was about to?—"

"About to what?" The temperature drops with my words. "Making calls in the castle?"

Color drains from her face. "It's nothing, sir. Personal matter."

But her heart races, betraying the lie. The curse pulses beneath my skin, recognizing something in her fear that sets my wolf on edge. Behind me, frost spreads across the windows.

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one important." She smooths her uniform, an old nervous habit. "If you'll excuse me, the dining room needs?—"

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