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.
Cole looks over his shoulder, reaching out to where I'm stuck.
"Dance with me," he whispers.
My gaze drops to his. I don't understand the pain in his eyes. But I understand the hope. And it guides me to him. Our fingers wrap together, holding tight, and he leads me to the center of the floor.
"There's no music," I murmur shyly, conscious of the many eyes upon us.
Cole spins me toward him, grasping my small waist with his strong hand. The heat of his palm pushes through the fabric, burning as though there is nothing between us at all. His other hand still clutches me, holding our arms to the side. And then he leans in, close enough that all I see and sense is him, the broad expanse of his chest, the woodsy, wild smell that clings to him, the rumble of words deep in his chest.
He presses his lips gently against my ear and whispers, "There will be."
The first howl rises almost eerily in the silence. But another joins. Then another. The song reminds me of the one I heard deep in my soul the first time I stepped into this room, dancing with my memories before the sound of a distant laugh stopped me.
This time, no one is laughing.
Cole spins us, round and round, until the entire room becomes a blur of light and dark shadows, and he is the only thing I see clearly. His hands guide me confidently, pushing and pulling so I'm stepping and twirling wherever he wants me to go. His touch grounds me. And his eyes grow brighter and brighter the more we move. Every time he whirls me away, I search for those shimmering silver orbs, the center of my perfect storm.
The music shifts with our dance, tempo becoming faster and faster as howls turn to barks and yaps of joy. Cole pushes me away, catching both of my hands in his, and we spin. I grin first. Then he does. And before we know it, we're laughing, adding our own notes to the song. My head falls back as I close my eyes, breathing in the moment. Our hands begin to slip as the pressure mounts, but we keep stepping quicker and quicker, twirling more and more.
We snap apart.
I'm not even afraid as I stumble dizzily, off-balance in my gown. The world is still spinning. I can't make out up or down. But I know Cole will catch me even before his arms sweep me off my feet, still dancing as I reach up, holding the back of his neck. I press my cheek to his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heart beating.
We slow.
He holds my waist firmly but releases my legs so they drift to the floor, leaving my whole body pressed against him.
I wait with my eyes closed until the room finally stops spinning.
When I open them, Cole and I are alone.
My fingers glide up into his thick, black hair. His eyes close as his body rumbles with that purr I like so much. With those stormy irises hidden, my gaze wanders, following my fingers as they trace the scars along his skin, the ones that have become so familiar I hardly notice them. I just barely brush the edge of the thick lines digging into his temples when his eyes pop open.
I should forget it. I should enjoy this perfect moment. I should push the question away. But I can’t. It slips out before I can stop it.
"How'd you get these?"
Cole jerks his head away from my touch, stepping back as his hands fall away. Cool air brushes against me, bringing a shiver to my lonely limbs.
Whatever spell we cast, I broke it.
"We should finish dinner," he mumbles.
"Cole." I stretch my arm, but he moves out of reach. I turn away, hiding the hurt I can't help but feel at his rejection.
When I look up from the floor, my eyes land on an image that stops me.
My mother.
But I blink, knowing that can’t be right. And I realize it's me. My reflection. I've never looked more like her than I do right now, in this gorgeous gown, with my hair pinned up, a grown woman. Tears spring, but when I look into my eyes, they're still those of a lonely child. I have her hair. Her nose. Her blushing skin. Her magic. But my watery umber irises reveal the truth. I don't have her wisdom. I don't have her strength. I don't have her courage.
I'm a girl playing dress up.
Always pretending.
Always hiding.
I might not be running any more, but I'm still too afraid to stand up for myself. I wanted happiness. I wanted acceptance. I wanted them so badly I didn't care about the cost, I didn’t care how much of myself I had to shirk in the process.
Be brave.
A voice I haven't heard in ten years whispers to me.
My darling Omorose, you'll learn to be brave.
Her parting words to me. A promise I've yet to live up to.
I came to the beast for sanctuary. I came to find a place where I would be accepted for who I am. I came for answers. To learn about myself. To finally grow into the woman I'm supposed to be. To find my strength.
"Where'd you get those scars?" I ask again, softly.
And then I turn, standing upright with my shoulders pulled proudly back as I face him. I'm done swallowing my questions. I won't accept a friendship with parameters. I won't consent to half-truths. I won't tolerate a relationship based on lies any longer.
"Where'd you get those scars?" I say again, louder.
Cole takes a step back, stormy gray eyes begging me to stop.
But I can’t. I won't.
"What does the solstice really celebrate?" I ask. "And why haven't you been able to celebrate it in years?"
Cole grits his teeth. The muscles in his cheek coil as his jaw clenches, sealing the answers away. But his silence just spurs me on. And all the questions I've locked away come surging out.
"Why won't you talk about magic? What happened to your mother? Who is that woman you wanted me to stay away from? Why are there no other people?"
One after another after another.
I lose track as they tumble through my lips.
By the time I'm done, my throat is scratchy from shouting, and I'm breathing heavy with exertion.
Cole's hands are curled into tight fists. His biceps bulge against the fabric of his jacket. His entire being trembles with pent-up rage. But I want him to let it out. To let whatever is holding him back go. To just speak to me. Anything but this silence.
His lips tremble.
They open.
Nothing comes out.
We face each other from two different sides of an impassable precipice. I want so badly to yank him over, but he's stubborn and stronger than me, and I know I can’t force him to leap if he doesn’t want to.
So instead I ask one more question.
The most important one.
The one that has somehow become more terrifying than all the rest.
"Do you trust me?"
It comes out as a whisper.
Cole steps back as though my words are a physical punch to his gut. He winces. And I can see the yearning to give in deep in his eyes. He wants to trust me. He wants so badly to trust me.
But he doesn't.
I don't think he ever will.
And that realization stabs my heart like a knife.
My head shakes back and forth, but I hold the rest in. I don't let him see me cry. I give him one more chance. "Do you trust me, Cole?"
Silence.
What is holding him back?
What secret from his past is tugging him away?
I'm not sure I'll ever know.
Before another moment passes, Cole's body ripples. The man disappears, replaced by the beast within. And he runs away. Leaving me in the middle of an empty ballroom, standing like a fool in a gorgeous gown, more alone than I've ever felt before.
I'm leaving for good this time.
As I watch the bear disappear behind the top edge of the steps, I tell myself that was the last straw.
It's time to admit my mistake.
I should never have come here.
I should go home to my father.
We should figure out a solution together.
So, I'm leaving.
But with my newfound strength, I decide there is no way I'm leaving without some answers. Which is why I find myself marching down a hall I know I'm prohibited from entering, toward a door I'm not allowed to open, to a woman I'm forbidden to touch.
When my eyes land on the golden glow still seeping from beneath the entry, a reckless smile spreads against my cheeks.
I feel wild with abandon.
And I like it.
Cole is nowhere to be found as I push my way inside and lay my eyes on the sleeping woman one last time. Her magic calls out to me just as it had before, tempting, magnetic as it pulls me closer. The longer I stand in the doorway, the more mesmerized I become. My brain turns to mush as my thoughts blend and fuzz, leaving bland awareness behind. The minutes tick by. I find that I'm leaning over her, not really sure how or when I moved from the door to the bed. My hand stretches for the shimmery film glowing just above her skin.
But I stop just before making contact. The magic whispers to me, urging me to touch her, to shift closer, to give in. Yet something deep in the back of my mind stops me, the memory of what happened last time, how my magic poured freely into her, how I lost control of myself.
Withering Rose (Once Upon a Curse Book 2) Page 10
