Page 67 of Beast of Blood and Roses
Volaris had switched tactics and was now casting firebolts at the shield with increasing intensity. Each flaming projectile struck the barrier with explosive force, causing the entire protective dome to tremble and flicker dangerously.
The wolves threw themselves against the shield with savage desperation, strike after strike, their massive bodies slamming into the magical barrier with bone-jarring force. Each impactmade the transparent dome shimmer and ripple like disturbed water, growing more unstable with every assault.
Trystan stood back from the chaos, waiting with the patience of a hunter stalking wounded prey. His cold blue eyes were fixed hungrily on the amulet around my neck, as if he could already taste victory. He knew—we all knew— that any minute now the shield would shatter completely, leaving us at the mercy of his snarling pack while he claimed his prize.
But I wouldn’t let them hurt Rosalie. Not while there was breath left in my body.
Then another figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the afternoon light. Trystan, Volaris, and the wolves were so focused on breaking through our defenses that they didn’t notice her arrival.
But I saw her clearly.
Tinker Bell stood in the doorway like an avenging angel, her blonde hair catching the sunlight, her green eyes calculating as they surveyed the scene. She was simply...waiting. Waiting for me to fall, waiting to see what choice I would make in my final moments.
Marcel and Colette gasped audibly. “Mon Dieu,” Colette whispered, her voice trembling. “She’s come to finish what she started.”
“Monsieur,” Marcel said urgently. “We should?—”
“Stay back,” I commanded, calculating the distance between us and each threat—wolves, Volaris, Tinker Bell.
My grip tightened on both the amulet and Rosalie’s hand. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. All I cared about was protecting the woman I loved, even if it meant facing three enemies instead of two.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rosalie
I squeezed Beast’s hand tighter, feeling the incredible surge of power moving through him and into me like flames jumping between us. I’d expected him to grow weaker as I drew from the amulet’s energy, but instead he seemed to be getting stronger. The connection between us was feeding both our strengths rather than draining either of us.
A brilliant blue and white aura began swirling around us, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second. The magical energy crackled in the air, making my hair stand on end and sending tingling sensations across my skin.
“Give me The Witch’s Heart!” Dad cried out, the sound raw with desperation. His face had turned an alarming shade of red from pure rage, veins bulging at his temples. Spittle flew from his lips as he continued his relentless magical assault on our barrier.
I’d thought his power would be diminishing after using somuch energy, but instead it seemed to be growing stronger and stronger—feeding off his fury and hatred. Meanwhile, my own strength was fighting just to survive under the constant barrage of his attacks.
The shield flickered more violently now, and I could feel cracks beginning to form in my magical defenses. How much longer could we hold out?
“Stop attacking us, Dad!” I shouted at him.
He threw back his head and laughed—a cold, cruel sound that matched his calculating heart.
Through the chaos, I caught a glimpse of Trystan standing eerily calm. He lifted an eyebrow with amusement. “You think this pathetic creature is your father?”
The shield flickered dangerously as everything finally clicked into place. “So the nightmares were memories.”
Dad’s lips curled up into a smile that held no warmth, no love, no guilt. “Such a naive little fool. Did you ever wonder why you could never please me? Why you always disappointed me?”
“Because you’re the monster!” The accusation burst out of me, loud and fierce.
“You don’t know that he murdered your parents?” Trystan studied me with something that might have been pity.
Anger surged through me, strengthening the shield. I wanted to hurt Dad—no, he wasn’t my father. I wanted to scratch out his eyes, make him suffer every day like he made me suffer. “Why did you kill my parents?”
He cast me a sinister smile. “They betrayed me.”
I didn’t believe him. My nightmares had shown me good people, not traitors. “What do you mean? Tell me the truth.”
“I wanted power.” His eyes glittered with hunger. “I wantedto be more powerful than Tinker Bell, more powerful than any witch in New Orleans.”
“So you killed innocent people?” I narrowed my eyes. “How did murdering my parents give you power?”
