Page 63 of Beast of Blood and Roses
He stiffened against me, his back arching at an impossible angle as if invisible hands were bending him backward. A strangled cry tore from his throat, raw, agonized, inhuman. The sound made my blood freeze in my veins.
“No, no, no!” I tried to hold onto him, but he rolled away from me onto his back, his limbs twisting at odd, unnatural angles like a marionette with tangled strings.
He began to flicker and fade like a dying candle. I watched in horror as the beautiful transformation reversed itself with cruel efficiency. Sharp horns erupted from his skull with wet, tearing sounds that made my stomach lurch. Coarse fur sprouted across his face in dark waves, covering the perfect features I’d just been memorizing with my fingertips.
His jaw elongated with sickening pops and cracks, fangs pushing through his gums as his mouth transformed back into something monstrous. His hands curled into claws that scraped against the hardwood floor.
“Beast!” I reached for him desperately, but he was lost in the grip of the curse’s return, his body convulsing as magic twisted him back into the creature I’d first met.
The man I’d just kissed—the man I was falling in love with—disappeared before my eyes, leaving only the beast behind.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fierro
Unbearable pain rippled through my body like molten metal in my veins, each wave more excruciating than the last. My bones felt like they were breaking and reforming, muscles stretching and contorting back into their cursed shape. I gritted my teeth against the agony, tasting blood.
But beneath the physical torment was something even worse: the memory of what I’d just lost. Rosalie’s kiss had been a gift beyond measure, like cool water offered to a dying man in the desert. Her lips had been soft and warm against mine, her breath sweet, her touch gentle yet electric.
I had kissed women before—countless encounters over the years that meant nothing, forgotten as soon as they ended. But none had ever left me breathless like this, none had ever made me want to be better, to be worthy of such tenderness. None had ever made me want to spend eternity learning how to please them, to see that look of wonder in their eyes again.
The taste of her still lingered on my lips even as my mouth stretched and deformed, fangs erupting through my gums with sharp bursts of pain. My hands, which had just been stroking her hair with human fingers, curled back into claws that scraped helplessly against the floor.
But that perfect feeling—that glimpse of what we could be together—was gone, ripped away as violently as it had appeared. It was replaced now with crushing agony, both physical and emotional. The curse wrapped around me like chains, dragging me back into the prison of my monstrous form.
I wanted to tell her it was worth it, that even thirty seconds of being human with her was worth a lifetime of this suffering. But all that emerged from my transforming throat was a broken roar of anguish that echoed through the empty house.
Rosalie grabbed my claw with both hands, her fingers warm against the rough, transformed skin. Tears welled in her amber eyes, threatening to spill over. “Beast, tell me what to do. Please, there has to be something!”
The desperation in her voice cut through my agony like a blade. Dark magic was coursing through me like poison—those white streaks from The Witch’s Heart had done more than attack me. Volaris had done something terrible, added another layer to my suffering. Cursed me again somehow.
I gritted my teeth against another wave of torment that felt like my very soul was being torn apart. “Dark magic...” I forced the words out through clenched fangs. “Need...need...” But I couldn’t finish the sentence as another surge of agony gripped me, stealing my breath and making my vision blur with pain.
Marcel appeared beside us, blood trickling down his forehead. He placed a hand on Rosalie’s shoulder, his weathered face creased with worry. “I believe he needs The Witch’s Heartback,ma chérie. Without its protection, the dark magic is consuming him.”
She grabbed Marcel’s jacket. “Where does Trystan live? I have to get it back. Beast is dying!”
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. The determination in her amber eyes was fierce, almost wild with desperation.
“No.” Despite the agony coursing through me, I managed to grab her arm with my claw. The thought of her walking into Trystan’s territory alone sent terror shooting through me stronger than any physical pain. “Too dangerous...He’ll kill you...”
My words came out in ragged gasps, each syllable a struggle as another wave of dark magic twisted through my body like razors.
Marcel rushed to Rosalie’s side, his weathered hands shaking as he tried to steady himself after being thrown into the doorframe.
Colette, positioned by the living room window, suddenly went rigid. Her face drained of all color as she pressed her palms against the glass. “Monsieur...” Her whisper was thick with dread. “The wolves…They’re here.”
Fighting through the pulsing agony, I forced myself to turn my head toward the window. Through my blurred vision, I could make out golden eyes gleaming in the growing twilight at the very edge of my property line.
And there, standing among them at the property’s edge, were two figures. Volaris still clutching The Witch’s Heart, and the massive form of Trystan Hunter himself.
Why hadn’t they left?
“I’ve got to get The Witch’s Heart.” Rosalie looked out thewindow toward the property line where golden eyes gleamed in the growing darkness.
“No,” I gritted my teeth and gripped her arm tighter, even as another surge of agony made my vision blur. “You’d have to get past them.They’ll tear you apart before you reach your father.”
“I can’t let you die.” Her amber eyes blazed with fierce courage that both awed and terrified me.
