Page 44 of Beast of Blood and Roses
His words stunned me. What game was Rosalie’s father playing?
“But she was married to Volaris?” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, claws digging into my palms.
He met my gaze steadily, but I could see the concern etched in the lines around his eyes. “I couldn’t find any evidence of that, at least not in New Orleans. It’s possible they could havegotten married someplace else and moved here.” He shrugged, but the gesture was tense, uncertain.
“Rosalie hasn’t mentioned that her family wasn’t from here, but we haven’t discussed family origins. Not yet.” I began pacing the narrow hallway, my mind racing through possibilities, each one more troubling than the last. A woman with no records, a child whose magic was violently bound…had Volaris murdered Rosalie’s mother to steal her daughter? Was the torture Rosalie remembered actually not just him binding her powers but her memories too?
Marcel shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders tightening. “But that’s not all. There are rumors that Volaris owes money to the wrong people.”
I stopped mid-stride, my blood running cold. “Angelo?” The name came out as barely more than a growl.
He shook his head grimly, his face pale. “No, not the Santi family. The Hunter family. He owes the wolves, and rumor has it Trystan is demanding payment.”
My stomach dropped like a stone. Cross-family debts were always messy, always dangerous. Territory disputes, honor codes, blood feuds—when vampires owed wolves, things got complicated fast. And Trystan Hunter had a reputation for collecting debts in the most brutal ways possible. I gripped the doorframe to steady myself, the wood groaning under the pressure of my claws.
I thought of the wolf attack and how vicious they had been, the memory of their snarls and snapping teeth still fresh in my mind. “What about our attack? Was that mere coincidence or something else?”
“Based on what I learned today, I’m not sure they were related, but I wouldn’t rule it out.” Marcel’s jaw tightened as hedelivered the next bomb. “Rumor has it that Volaris has offered up Rosalie for payment.”
My heart stilled completely, the world seeming to tilt on its axis. Ice flooded my veins as the danger sank in. “Did he accept?”
Marcel’s expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line as the color drained from his face. His fingers drummed nervously against his thigh. “According to my sources, Trystan hasn’t agreed. Not yet.”
“Damn it.” I slammed my fist against the wall, leaving a crater in the plaster. “If I wasn’t cursed, the family would protect her. Trystan wouldn’t make a move unless Angelo granted it.” My chest burned with rage and helplessness. “Where is Volaris now?”
Marcel’s expression grew more grim. “I don’t know. He’s usually a regular at the casinos, but he’s been strangely absent lately.”
My muscles coiled like steel cables. “You think Trystan has him? Do you think they’re conspiring together?”
“I don’t know.” Marcel cast me a wary gaze. “But his disappearance right after these rumors started...it’s not a good sign.”
I dragged my hands through my fur, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios, each one involving Rosalie being stolen from me. The thought made my chest burn with a fury I’d never experienced before.
“Come with me.” I needed answers and I needed them now. I strode toward the center of the room, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the leather cord around my neck.
My fingers found the amulet that rested against my chest: The Witch’s Heart. The crystallized organ was warm against my palm. Enzo had given it to me, telling me it would help me trackdown anyone who tried to hide from the Santi family. But the amulet was as treacherous as it was useful; it only showed half-truths and left everything open for interpretation.
I lifted the amulet, its dark red surface catching the lamplight like captured blood. The heart-shaped crystal felt heavier than usual in my grip. “Show me Volaris.”
The amulet grew hot against my palm, the crystallized heart beginning to glow from within. Shadows swirled inside the translucent surface, coalescing into an image. A dark figure appeared, partially hidden in shadows that seemed to move and shift. I squinted at the vision, frustration building in my chest. I couldn’t make out who it was; the shadows were too deep, the figure too obscured.
Marcel leaned closer, studying the vision. Suddenly the air seemed to grow colder, icing over my blood. “Is that Volaris?”
“I think so. The figure’s blurry and distorted, and I can’t make out where he is. At least we know he’s alive.”
Just as the glow began to fade, the image flickered and changed. A new scene appeared within the crystal. Rosalie, alone in the kitchen, completely unaware of the dark figure watching her through the window.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rosalie
I just finished drying the last dish when heavy footsteps came crashing down the stairs like rolling thunder. The sound made my heart skip as something crashed against the wall above.
Beast burst into the kitchen like a hurricane, his eyes wild and feral as he snarled and gnashed his teeth. Terror shot through me like ice water. He looked absolutely murderous, like he wanted to tear someone apart with his bare claws. Flour still dusted his dark fur and clung to his shirt, making him look even more unhinged. But then his wild gaze found me, and something shifted—the murderous rage transforming into desperate concern.
He grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip hard enough to bruise. “Are you all right? Did you see anyone watching you?”
I shook my head, my pulse hammering against my throat. The intensity in his eyes was frightening. I’d never seen him this agitated. “What are you talking about?”
