Read Online Withering Rose (Once Upon A Curse Book 2) by Kaitlyn Davis - Free Book Online
Authors: Kaitlyn Davis
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Magic, Werewolves, beauty and the beast, Dystopian, Fairy Tales, shapeshifters, Adaptation, once upon a time
Ads: Link
he…nervous?
I almost yearn to crack open the door and
take a peek. The curiosity itches, taunting me. The stranger stops
outside my door once again. The world goes quiet.
"Omorose?"
The low growl washes over me, making me
tremble. His voice is too easy to recognize. Even his soft tone is
fueled with wild danger. In the back of my mind, I don't see a man
on the other side of the door. I see a wolf on the hunt, lazily
baring its teeth to a rabbit already caught in its trap.
I'm the rabbit.
"Go away," I plead, voice uneven.
I don't want to talk to the beast. I don't
want to see him.
I've been hearing his savage laughter in my
dreams. In the nightmare, he is little more than a figure made of
shadows, not truly of this world. The thought of him once filled me
with hope, but now it makes my blood run cold. Not a beast, but a
monster.
"I…" he starts and then trails off, ending
with a sigh.
Do I dare say he sounds apologetic? My ears
must be deceiving me. I press them closer to the wood,
confused.
"Open the door," he commands, anger
simmering.
"No," I retort. There's no way I'm opening
this door, not for him. I don't want to stare into the shadows of
his face, wondering what savage beast hides within the darkness.
I'm perfectly fine keeping a wall of wood between us.
"I brought food."
"I don't want it."
"You need to eat."
"No, I don't."
"Omorose," he says gruffly, annoyed.
My stomach rumbles, and I lick my lips.
Maybe he does want to help.
Maybe…
"Open the door!" he shouts, slamming his
fist into the wood, knocking it into my ear so hard it rings.
I jump away, frightened. "Go away!"
He growls angrily, snarling rather than
speaking.
I don't say anything.
Neither does he.
We both stay stubborn in our silence.
"Fine, starve," he snaps after a few
minutes, finally stomping away.
I fall back against the door, sinking to the
floor as my knees slowly give out. I know I've just achieved some
sort of victory, but it tastes sour on my tongue. I came here for
help. I came here because I thought I might have finally found
someone who would understand me. I thought I might have finally
found a place where I didn't have to live in fear. What happened to
the stranger who caressed my face beneath the moonlight? The person
who made me feel for a moment like I wasn't alone? Did I imagine
him? There is no doubt in my mind that it couldn't have been this
hooded beast with menace seeping from his pores.
I should go home.
I should return to my father.
There is nothing for me here.
But the idea of showing up empty-handed, of
going through so much trouble just to see disappointment and
despair darken my father's eyes once more, it physically pains me.
I'm nauseous just picturing the reunion, just imagining the way his
features would fall when I admitted that the miracle he'd been
hoping for didn’t come true.
But maybe this adventure doesn't have to be
for nothing.
Maybe there is something or someone here who
will help.
Maybe I don't need the beast. Maybe I just
need his books. Or maps. Or scrolls. Anything with any sort of
information about the magic. Anything that mentions another person
who might be able to help. If I leave, I don't need to go home.
Maybe there is another place I can go to seek out acceptance, to
finally have a life free of fear.
The idea churns, gaining momentum, gleaming
brighter and brighter the more I consider it. Before I realize what
I'm doing, magic pricks my fingertips as the vines are swept away
from the door. I throw on the cloak I found in the armoire and slip
into my sneakers before stepping into the empty hallway. Then I
close my eyes, using the magic to extend my senses, hoping it will
guide me toward answers.
At first, I feel nothing aside from the
usual pulse of nature.
And then I feel it.
A gentle tug on the edge of my magic, as
though someone is tenderly urging me closer. I'm not afraid. I know
there is no way the beast could be the source of that supernatural
caress. I haven't
I almost yearn to crack open the door and
take a peek. The curiosity itches, taunting me. The stranger stops
outside my door once again. The world goes quiet.
"Omorose?"
The low growl washes over me, making me
tremble. His voice is too easy to recognize. Even his soft tone is
fueled with wild danger. In the back of my mind, I don't see a man
on the other side of the door. I see a wolf on the hunt, lazily
baring its teeth to a rabbit already caught in its trap.
I'm the rabbit.
"Go away," I plead, voice uneven.
I don't want to talk to the beast. I don't
want to see him.
I've been hearing his savage laughter in my
dreams. In the nightmare, he is little more than a figure made of
shadows, not truly of this world. The thought of him once filled me
with hope, but now it makes my blood run cold. Not a beast, but a
monster.
"I…" he starts and then trails off, ending
with a sigh.
Do I dare say he sounds apologetic? My ears
must be deceiving me. I press them closer to the wood,
confused.
"Open the door," he commands, anger
simmering.
"No," I retort. There's no way I'm opening
this door, not for him. I don't want to stare into the shadows of
his face, wondering what savage beast hides within the darkness.
I'm perfectly fine keeping a wall of wood between us.
"I brought food."
"I don't want it."
"You need to eat."
"No, I don't."
"Omorose," he says gruffly, annoyed.
My stomach rumbles, and I lick my lips.
Maybe he does want to help.
Maybe…
"Open the door!" he shouts, slamming his
fist into the wood, knocking it into my ear so hard it rings.
I jump away, frightened. "Go away!"
He growls angrily, snarling rather than
speaking.
I don't say anything.
Neither does he.
We both stay stubborn in our silence.
"Fine, starve," he snaps after a few
minutes, finally stomping away.
I fall back against the door, sinking to the
floor as my knees slowly give out. I know I've just achieved some
sort of victory, but it tastes sour on my tongue. I came here for
help. I came here because I thought I might have finally found
someone who would understand me. I thought I might have finally
found a place where I didn't have to live in fear. What happened to
the stranger who caressed my face beneath the moonlight? The person
who made me feel for a moment like I wasn't alone? Did I imagine
him? There is no doubt in my mind that it couldn't have been this
hooded beast with menace seeping from his pores.
I should go home.
I should return to my father.
There is nothing for me here.
But the idea of showing up empty-handed, of
going through so much trouble just to see disappointment and
despair darken my father's eyes once more, it physically pains me.
I'm nauseous just picturing the reunion, just imagining the way his
features would fall when I admitted that the miracle he'd been
hoping for didn’t come true.
But maybe this adventure doesn't have to be
for nothing.
Maybe there is something or someone here who
will help.
Maybe I don't need the beast. Maybe I just
need his books. Or maps. Or scrolls. Anything with any sort of
information about the magic. Anything that mentions another person
who might be able to help. If I leave, I don't need to go home.
Maybe there is another place I can go to seek out acceptance, to
finally have a life free of fear.
The idea churns, gaining momentum, gleaming
brighter and brighter the more I consider it. Before I realize what
I'm doing, magic pricks my fingertips as the vines are swept away
from the door. I throw on the cloak I found in the armoire and slip
into my sneakers before stepping into the empty hallway. Then I
close my eyes, using the magic to extend my senses, hoping it will
guide me toward answers.
At first, I feel nothing aside from the
usual pulse of nature.
And then I feel it.
A gentle tug on the edge of my magic, as
though someone is tenderly urging me closer. I'm not afraid. I know
there is no way the beast could be the source of that supernatural
caress. I haven't
Similar Books
