Page 17 of Beast of Blood and Roses
“No. Only Colette can leave.” I swallowed my mimosa. “Are they all faded and worn like this?” The words came out harsher than I intended and the girl flinched.
She stiffened as if I’d slapped her, her spine going rigid, and her cheeks ballooned red with humiliation and anger. “I’m sorry if my clothes offend you,monsieur,” she said through gritted teeth. “But they are the only things I could afford.”
Pain flashed across her features before she looked away. Something uncomfortable churned in my stomach, but I kept my expression neutral. I leaned back slightly, realizing I’d struck a nerve. “Because your father gambled away all your money?”
She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “You know the answer to that. I can pay for my clothes if you allow me to return to Crimson Stakes. I can also pay off my dad’s debt to you, but I must work.”
Possessiveness immediately flared hot in my chest. She was the only girl that had come to the mansion and my only chance of breaking this damn curse. If she returned to Crimson Stakes, she might tell Enzo’s crew about me, making me a target. Or they’d sense she knew too much about vampires and kill her to protect their secrets. Either way, I’d lose my only chance at breaking the curse. “No. You’re not leaving here.”
Hope died in her eyes. She was obviously trying to find a way to escape from me. I’d have to watch her extremely closely. I should be angry with her, but it’s what I would have done.
She sighed miserably and returned to pushing her French toast around on her plate.
I grabbed my French toast with my claws, the sharp points easily piercing through the soft bread, and ripped it apart without thinking. Syrup dripped between my fingers as I stuffed the torn pieces into my mouth, my jaw working hungrily. I could always feel food getting caught in my fur like a warthog. Bits of syrup and powdered sugar stuck to my fur-covered paws, and I could feel the stickiness matting the fur around my mouth. I couldn’t use utensils anymore—hadn’t been able to since the transformation—and could only rely on my claws to tear and grab.
The silence made me look up.
She had stopped swirling her toast mid-motion, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth, and stared at me with undisguised horror. Her face had gone pale, eyes wide with a mixture of revulsion and fear that cut deeper than any blade. I could see her throat work as she swallowed hard, fighting not to gag.
I was a monster. In my hunger and distraction, I’d forgotten to hide what I’d become, forgotten she was watching. Shame burned hot in my chest as I became acutely aware of every drop of syrup on my fur, every crumb clinging to my muzzle.
She placed her fork down gently. “You can’t use silverware, can you?”
Shame burned hot in my chest. “No. I can’t. I’ve tried but nothing works.”
“That must be really frustrating,” she said softly, her voicelosing its earlier fear. There was genuine understanding in her eyes, not pity, just acknowledgment of something difficult.
The seconds ticked by and neither of us spoke. I wiped syrup from my muzzle with the back of my paw.
“What if we tried different kinds of food?” she offered quietly, her mind clearly working through the problem. “Things that are easier to eat with your hands? Like finger foods?”
I stared at her, stunned. No one had thought to offer creative solutions since the curse began. Marcel and Colette helped where they could, but they’d learned to look away, to give me privacy in my struggle. But here was this girl—this girl I was holding prisoner—thinking outside the box to solve my problem.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I said roughly, my voice catching.
“I know,” she replied simply. “But eating shouldn’t be so difficult. “Maybe fried chicken fingers, or sandwiches cut into strips?”
I glanced over at Colette who bowed slightly. “I will make chicken fingers with celery and carrot sticks. Would this work?”
Rosalie thought a moment, and I watched something shift in her expression—not pity, but genuine problem-solving focus, as if my comfort actually mattered to her. “Big enough that he can eat them?”
Colette smiled. “Oui,mademoiselle.”
The amulet around my neck grew warm against my chest; it always did when magic was near. But she seemed completely unaware of the power humming beneath her skin. I never thought a witch would want to help me, especially one who didn’t even know what she was. We were supposed to beenemies. Yet something warm unfurled in my chest at her genuine concern, which only made me more suspicious. Was this real kindness, or was her magic unconsciously weaving a spell to make me lower my guard?
I clutched the amulet, wishing it would tell me more than just the presence of magic, like whether her intentions were genuine or if this kindness was some sort of spell.
Weariness rolled over me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say next.
Colette caught my eye. “Maybe Rosalie would like to walk around the mansion while I clean you up?”
I looked down at my shirt and fur that syrup stuck to, matting it into clumps.
Rosalie glanced at me hesitantly, her body tense as if waiting for another explosion from me, ready to flee at the first sign of anger. The sight made something ugly twist inside me. I hated that she looked at me like a cornered animal, hated even more that I’d given her every reason to.
“Yes, of course. Just don’t go into the north wing, especially not into my room.” Heat crept up my neck at the admission. I didn’t want her to watch Colette clean me like a small child, scrubbing syrup from my fur with patient, gentle hands. Food sometimes got caught in the coarse fur and it was humiliating to have her either wash my fur or carefully cut away the matted clumps. The thought of Rosalie witnessing that degradation made my stomach twist with shame.
Rosalie slid off the leather bar stool, relief flickering across her face at my reasonable tone. “I promise I won’t.” Her voice was soft but sincere, and something in her eyes—a warmth, an understanding—suggested she grasped why I needed that privacy. I really looked at her. Past the fear, past the faded dress,past seeing her as just a means to break the curse. There was something about the way the morning light caught her features, the gentle curve of her mouth when she wasn’t afraid...
