Withering Rose (Once Upon A Curse Book 2) (14 page)

"Cole!" I pound a fist against his back, but
I think it hurts my fingers more than it hurts him. "Put me
down!"

"You're supposed to be making me breakfast,"
he replies.

"I am," I reply sweetly. "This is how I make
breakfast."

He snorts. "Well, this is how I make
breakfast."

Then he's walking. And walking.

The cool brush of wintry air hits my calves
as he opens a door.

"Cole, where are you taking me?"

He doesn't answer. But the ground has turned
to gravel that crunches ominously beneath his boots.

"Cole?"

No response.

I try to look around, but the blood is
rushing to my head.

"Cole?"

And then I'm flying.

I scream, but the sound is washed away as I
land in a pool of ice-cold water that shocks my system to the very
core. I gulp and gasp when I reach the surface, sputtering. I want
to scream. I want to yell. My entire body aches for
retribution.

Instead, I reach my hand up and smile as
though the whole situation is one big entertaining joke. "Ha. Ha,"
I mutter. The words come unevenly out of my shivering lips. "Help
me up. I'd like to eat before I freeze to death."

His eyes grow a tad concerned as he reaches
for my hand, as though uncertain about his rash actions. I wonder
if my skin is as blue and frozen as I feel. But I don’t wonder for
very long. When his strong fingers wrap sturdily around mine, I
yank with everything I have.

Even a beast can be caught unaware.

Cole loses his balance, tumbling into the
fountain right next to me. And when he comes surging to the
surface, the first thing that greets him is a cold, wet splash.

I'm still shivering half an hour later as we
both sit with our plates before a warm fire, wrapped in dry
blankets. But even my chattering teeth don't stop the giggles that
burst from my lips as I look up from my steaming eggs to find the
dangerous, brooding beast disgustedly picking at the yellow goo
still stuck in his eyebrows.

The next day Cole greets me with breakfast in bed.
Two omelets, nearly perfect. We eat side by side before the
fireplace in my room, and I don't mention the few bits of eggshells
that crunch between my teeth as I chew.

That night, I teach him how to roast a
chicken, which he assures me tastes better than the way he normally
eats it—raw.

The following day, he takes me to the
library, a gigantic room that towers at least two stories high, and
all I can see are books upon books upon books. He watches me wander
through the shelves for half an hour before confessing he doesn’t
really know how to read. So we find a spot beneath a window, and I
do my best to show him. At first he growls at his own incompetence.
But it isn't long before I find myself curled against his side with
his muscular arm wrapped around me as we lean over the page,
deciphering the words together.

The day after, he tells me one of the wolves
had pups, so we abandon the books. I watch from the corner of a
cold cottage as he plays on all fours, barking and growling with
the little fur balls. Every so often, his eyes find mine and he
smiles just a little wider. And then I find myself pulled into the
fun as sharp baby teeth tug on the edge of my dress, dragging me
closer. Soon enough, I'm giggling as little pups pounce on my lap
and scratchy tongues tickle my skin.

And from there on, the days begin to blend
together.

Somehow, his hand begins to feel natural in
mine.

Somehow, his touch becomes something
familiar, something I crave.

Somehow, I begin to notice the subtle
changes in his eyes. Glimmering silver. Stormy gray. Sharp steel.
And those moments when the clouds clear just a little and the
barest hint of midnight-blue sneaks in.

Somehow, I grow to understand the many
vibrations of his voice. The harsh and aggressive snarl of his
anger. The quick and light tone of his laughter. The long and
drawn-out growl of his frustration. And my favorite, the soft and
somber purr of happiness, so silent I almost don't notice the
sound. But every so often, when we sit close by the fire, I hear
that gentle rumble of satisfaction, and it warms me more than the
flames ever could.

Cole shows me how to be wild and
carefree.

I show him how to be civilized and
proper.

Forgetting about my magic becomes second
nature. Questions no longer wait at the tip of my tongue. I've let
them drop away. When I find my attention wandering to that golden
woman alone in that room, I imagine Cole's frown, I imagine how his
eyes would grow stormy with hurt, and the thought disappears. When
I want to ask about his mother, about why there are no other humans
besides the two of us, I find myself daydreaming about how easily
he makes me laugh, how I've smiled more in the past few weeks than
I remember in the past ten years, how I finally have a sense like I
belong, and the inquiries vanish. That's the price of his
friendship. And it’s one I'm willing to pay. For now.

So I wait until the dead of night, using the
cover of darkness to cloak my magic, to hide it from him. The walls
of my room have more flowers and more fruits than I can count.
Under the light of the moon, I walk through the greenhouse, mind
wandering absently as my fingers brush against silky leaves, and
the magic seeps smoothly out. Recently, my thoughts drift solely to
him.

He hasn’t shifted in front of me again. I
haven't asked.

Like my magic, that is his unwritten rule,
the line he doesn't cross.

Sometimes, in those lonely hours, I yearn to
push him across it. I wonder what will happen if we both fall over
the edge. But by the time I wake to his smiling face at my door,
the desire is gone. Joy bubbles up, filling my chest, pushing all
the doubts away, and I'm reminded that things are fine the way they
are, things are peaceful and happy and I don't want that to
change.

Especially not tonight.

Anticipation swells beneath my skin.

Excited butterflies dance around my
stomach.

And as I look in the mirror, there's a
twinkle in my umber eyes that's never been there before.

I've been preparing for tonight for the past
two days, ever since Cole told me about the winter solstice. He
mentioned it casually—too casually. But his eyes were a deep,
tumultuous storm that revealed far more than his words ever could.
Something about tonight holds profound meaning for him, another
secret I've yet to uncover. But he did tell me the castle hasn't
seen a proper celebration in a very long time, and he thought his
people deserved it.

So I came to my room and immediately opened
the armoire, running my hands hesitantly over the beautiful gowns I
had yet to touch. I tried them all on. Some fit. Some didn't, but
nothing felt right. So I wandered the halls, opening doors and
closets and drawers, until finally I saw the dress I have on
now.

As I spin in the candlelight, I'm awed by
how it glitters just as I imagined it would when I first laid eyes
upon it. The bodice is black with lace that wraps across my torso,
hugging it tight, and extending down my arms, leaving only my
shoulders and my neck bare. The deep ebony gives way to soft silver
as the skirt falls in waves to the floor. Diamond beads twinkle
like a mix of sun and starlight as hints of gold flash, reflecting
fiery flames. And the longer I stare at the glimmering chiffon, the
more and more I see Cole's blissful eyes staring back at me.

I know exactly why I chose this dress.

I wonder if he'll see it too.

A knock sounds gently against my door,
sending a flurry of nervous energy through me. I swallow, running
my hands down the front of the gown, smoothing out wrinkles I know
aren't there. Glancing one last time at the mirror, I stroke the
ivory petals woven into my auburn hair, a little touch of spring in
cold winter.

When I turn, the door is already open.

If I had any breath left, the sight of him
would have stolen it away. Cole watches me with his hands braced
behind his back. My eyes drift up along his ebony suit, fabric made
of midnight, over the ivory skin of his neck, the soft peach of his
lips, until they stop, trapped by those irises I see even in my
dreams.

Hungry.

That's the only word that comes when I look
at him.

That he's hungry for me.

The idea makes me shiver in the most
delicious way.

"Do I clean up well?" I ask lightly,
spinning around.

I don't even hear him move, but by the time
I've completed the circle, he is right next to me, so close the
edges of my skirt brush over his toes.

Not a single thing about him is
laughing.

"You…" he breathes, unable to find
words.

Then Cole reaches slowly for my cheek,
pausing just close enough for me to feel the heat of his palm, but
not touching. My skin yearns for that soft caress. He flips his
hand, so the backs of his fingers graze ever so tenderly against
me. The whisper of contact reminds me of a night that feels so long
ago, when a stranger made me feel precious and wanted for the first
time.

Before the memory has time to linger, he
drops his hand, stepping away. For the first time in weeks, I can't
read the emotion in his eyes. But he blinks and it's gone, leaving
a wide smile in its place.

"Ready?" he asks, offering his arm.

I take it, swallowing any question I might
have asked back down. "Ready."

He leads me to the dining room, which has
been set for the first time since I've been here. Candelabras line
the center of the table. Rose petals of all different shades lay
scattered between them. Distantly I wonder why he chose that flower
of all flowers. If it's maybe the same reason I chose this dress of
all dresses. But the idea flees as I take in the meal placed
carefully in gleaming silver bowls.

"What is it?" I murmur, awed. I don't
recognize the food. It's not something I've taught him.

Cole is grinning, but there's an edge of
sadness to his smile he can't hide. "My father's favorite. It's a
stew we used to make together on the solstice. I haven't had it in
a very long time."

But he doesn’t say more. And I don't press
him even though I want to.

"Where's everyone else?" I wonder instead as
I take my first sip. Spices tingle against my tongue. The flavor
creates a burning fire that as I swallow, sends a wave of heat to
the tips of my toes. The perfect dish for a cold, wintry day.

Cole slurps a little as he brings the spoon
to his lips. For some reason, that sound and the slightly
embarrassed expression that crosses over his face melts me more
than the stew.

"They're waiting for us," he answers
vaguely.

I raise my eyebrows. "Waiting where?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes
shimmer. "It's a surprise."

He's teasing me.

"Why is it always a surprise?" I mutter.

He just grins.

I sigh, pursing my lips, and take another
bite. "What are we celebrating, anyway?"

"The longest night of the year," he answers
smoothly.

I stare at him. He glances at his food. I
know he doesn’t want me to ask, but the urge for just a little
something more is too strong. "Cole…"

"The solstice," he begins, but pauses,
searching for the words. And I know it has something to do with our
promise, something to do with magic and the unspoken presence it
always has in our conversations. I wish he would just tell me the
whole truth. But he doesn't. "The solstice is the day my kingdom
was first founded. Many years ago, on a long night just like this,
predators who were once enemies decided to form one united people.
And we've lived in peace together ever since."

What predators?

Why did they choose this night to join
together?

How come?

But I know he won't answer. This is what he
always does, offers just enough about himself to reply to the
question without revealing anything at all.

Cole stands abruptly, pushing his chair back
so quickly it nearly falls over. "Come with me," he urges.

His tone is pleading so I do, taking his
hand, not saying anything as we leave the barely eaten food behind.
It doesn’t take long for me to recognize where we're going. I
expected it all along.

Still, I gasp as we enter the ballroom. Cole
starts down the steps, but I stop at the top, taking in the
twinkling chandeliers and the newly cleaned glistening gold
moldings all around the room. My eyes follow the trail of
flickering lights around the sweeping space, meeting the hundreds
of eyes reflecting those same flames as they watch me with their
king. Wolves. Bears. Leopards. Birds. Foxes. A kingdom of predators
who bow submissively before us in a swift wave.