Page 7 of Beast of Blood and Roses
Marcel hadn’t exaggerated. Rosalie was beautiful, heartbreakingly so. The scent of witchcraft that clung to her should have filled me with disgust and rage—instead, it was intoxicating and dangerous. Something stirred in me against my will, a hunger different from bloodlust, awakening parts I thought had died with my humanity.
My heart quickened as I fought to maintain control. Maybe I wouldn’t kill her…yet. The thought brought a warmth to my chest that I hadn’t felt in seven months.
“What happened to Bastia? His accounts showed he was still alive, but everyone said he was dead…” David choked out the word, his face draining of color like water down a sink. His gaze locked onto the pendant around my neck. I could feel his greed pour out of him. It was worth more than ten thousand dollars—it was priceless. Sweat beaded on his forehead, catching the dim light.
I sat in a recliner opposite them, the leather creaking beneath my weight. My claws dug into the armrests, leaving fresh marks atop countless others. “He’s dead obviously,” I growled, my voice rumbling deep in my chest. “And you, you fool, still owe me ten thousand dollars.” I leaned forward, catching his panic—sour and suffocating. “I’ll take it in blood or cash.”
“No,” Rosalie whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in an autumn wind. Her fingers clutched at her father’s sleeve. The scent of witch magic intensified with her distress, filling the room with burnt honey and something darker. “You can’t kill him. Please.”
“Then what would you offer me?” I tilted my head, taking in her beauty. My tongue traced the edge of one fang, tasting the metallic promise of violence.
“Can you give us more time?” Rosalie pleaded, her amber eyes glistening with unshed tears. A pulse throbbed in my throat.
“He’s had months to come up with the money. I’m done waiting.” I bared my teeth, a low snarl escaping through them. “I want blood for what you’ve?—“
She glanced between Volaris and me uneasily. “Betrayed you? How?”
Volaris clutched her hand and shot me a desperate look before blurting, “By not paying him back.”
I got the feeling he didn’t want her to know what he had really done—that he had been managing my investments and had been stealing from me. Did she know nothing about our arrangement, or was she just playing dumb?
She looked around nervously, her gaze darting to each exit like a trapped bird. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the worn fabric of her dress. “There’s got to be another way.”
There was one alternative…one that could possibly break the curse…
“If you don’t want me to kill him,” I said, each word dropping like ice, “then you’ll have to take his place and never leave here.”
The color drained from his cheeks like water from a broken dam.
She trembled next to him, her skin paling to porcelain. “If I don’t?—”
“Then your father will remain here as my prisoner and I’llkill him at my leisure.” My claws scraped against the leather, the sound filling the silence like a threat.
David seized her hand, his knuckles white with desperate pressure. A sour stench of panic wafted from him. “Don’t let me die.”
Pathetic human—willing to sacrifice his daughter to save his own skin. My lip curled in disgust.
“If I stay?—”
“Then he survives.” I rose to my full height, towering over them both, my shadow engulfing them. “But if you try to escape or manage to leave, I’ll search him out and kill him.” I gestured between them with a clawed hand. “The choice is yours. He stays and dies. Or you stay and he lives.”
Chapter Five
Rosalie
The walls of the mansion closed in on me, stealing my breath like a thief in the night. I couldn’t think straight. My mind kept stuttering, trying to process what sat across from me while my body screamed at me to run.
This couldn’t be real. Had to be a nightmare. I blinked hard, expecting to wake up in my cramped bedroom, but when I opened my eyes, he was still there.
Huge. That was the first coherent thought I managed. At least seven feet tall, maybe more. My gaze darted frantically over his form—curved black horns jutting from his forehead like something from hell itself. I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat.
Don’t look at the claws, I told myself, but my eyes betrayed me, fixing on those yellowed talons as they scraped against the leather armrest.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
The sound sent a quiver down my spine.
My fingernails dug into the couch cushions, anchoring me when every instinct screamed to bolt. The doorway was maybe ten feet away. Could I make it? My legs felt like water.
