Page 34 of Christmas with a Cursed Werewolf

Briar turns to me, determination blazing in her eyes. The mark on her neck—my mark—glows faintly, responding to the surge of protective magic that flows through me. "Whatever happens," she says, "we face it together."

Before I can respond, the castle's magic flares violently. Windows rattle in their frames as dark energy slams against our defenses. The protection charms burst into brilliant light, fighting back against the corruption that seeks to enter.

"He's stronger than before." The words taste like ashes in my mouth. "The experiments—they've changed him."

"But he's not stronger than us." Briar's voice carries absolute conviction. She presses her free hand against the nearest wall, and I watch in awe as the castle's magic responds, flowing toward her like water finding its natural course. "The curse feeds on isolation, remember? We're not alone anymore."

As if in answer, Ember—the castle's spirit—pulses with renewed energy. Books fly from their shelves in the library below, their pages rustling like wings as ancient magic awakens. The very stones beneath our feet seem to hum with power.

Another blast rocks the castle, and this time I hear glass shatter somewhere below. Rakan's thoughts pierce through the chaos:The wards are failing. They're inside.

"Go," Briar urges, pushing me toward the door. "Lead the pack. I'll coordinate with Ember and the staff."

For a moment, I hesitate. Every instinct screams to keep her close, to protect what's mine. But she's not just my mate—she's an arcanist coming into her power, and the castle responds to her in ways I'm only beginning to understand.

"Be careful," I growl, pulling her in for a fierce kiss. Her lips meet mine with equal intensity, and for a precious second, the world narrows to just us—to the taste of her mouth and the way our magic intertwines.

Then another explosion rocks the foundation, and we break apart. Without another word, I race toward the sound of fighting, my body already beginning to shift. Bones crack and reform as I take my wolf shape, power surging through enhanced muscles.

The scene in the grand hall is chaos. Dark shapes pour through shattered windows—twisted wolves larger than any natural beast, their fur rippling with unnatural shadows. My pack meets them head-on, teeth and claws flashing in the magical light that still pulses from Briar's charms.

I launch myself into the fray, taking down one of the corrupted wolves with a savage bite to the throat. Its blood tastes wrong—tainted with whatever dark magic Rurik has been experimenting with. Through the pack bond, I feel Rakan coordinating our defense, directing wolves to weak points while keeping the enemy contained.

But for every attacker we drive back, two more seem to take its place. The curse writhes beneath my skin, trying to use my rage to gain control. I fight it back, focusing instead on the warmth of Briar's mark—a reminder that I'm not alone in this battle.

Above the snarls and crashes of combat, I hear Briar's voice ring out. She stands on the grand staircase, her hands raised as she channels magic through the castle's ancient stones. The protective symbols carved into the walls begin to glow, their light pushing back the shadows that cling to our enemies.

"The library!" she shouts. "Get them away from the Arcanum!"

I turn to see several of the twisted wolves breaking away from the main fight, heading toward the west wing where the library's magic pulses strongest. Understanding hits like lightning—they're not just here to attack. They're here to corrupt the source of the castle's power.

Rakan, hold the line here, I project through our bond. I'm going after the others.

His acknowledgment comes with a flash of fierce loyalty as he coordinates the pack's defense. I race after the escapingwolves, my claws finding purchase on ancient stone as I take the stairs three at a time.

The scene I find in the library corridor makes my blood run cold. Fiona stands before the heavy doors, her hands pressed against wood that's now stained with dark symbols. Her eyes are completely black, and the air around her crackles with corrupted magic.

"I'm sorry," she whispers as I skid to a stop. "He promised to free us from the curse. He said?—"

A blast of dark energy cuts off her words as Rurik steps out of the shadows. My brother looks both familiar and alien—his features sharper, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. Power rolls off him in waves that make the curse stir restlessly beneath my skin.

"Hello, brother." His smile holds no warmth. "Miss me?"

I shift back to human form, my voice rough with emotion. "What have you done to yourself?"

"What you were too weak to do." He gestures at the twisted wolves that flank him. "I found a way to harness the curse’s power instead of fighting it. To transcend the limitations the Council tried to place on us."

"By corrupting everything you touch?" The words tear from my throat. "Look at what you've become, Rurik. This isn't power—it's poison."

His laugh sends chills down my spine. "Always so righteous, Ronan. Always trying to protect everyone but yourself." His gaze shifts to something behind me. "Speaking of protection..."

I spin to see Briar at the end of the corridor, her hands already moving in patterns that make the air shimmer. The castle’s magic responds instantly, stones grinding as they try to seal off the library entrance.

But Rurik is faster. Dark energy explodes from his hands, slamming into the walls with enough force to crack ancientstone. Fiona screams as she's thrown aside, her body crumpling against a pillar.

"The arcanist." Rurik's voice drips with false sweetness. "I've been so looking forward to meeting you properly. Your effect on the castle's magic is... fascinating."

"Stay away from her." The growl builds in my chest as I move to place myself between them.

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