Free Withering Rose (Once Upon A Curse Book 2) by Kaitlyn Davis Page A

rise from the ground,
sprouting from everywhere at once, surrounding him like a spiky
cell. They sink closer, shrinking around his form until sharp edges
press against his skin.
    Have I caught the beast?
    But a howl blasts through the air, loud
enough that it seems to vibrate over the mountains. As the sound
stretches, it turns into a furious roar. The black cloak ripples,
warping and changing, until the same bear from before bursts to
life. Claws slash, ripping the vines apart. Thick branches snap
like little more than twigs. In seconds, my trap is shredded
apart.
    Then the bear turns toward me.
    Breath smokes from his flared nostrils.
Deep, gray eyes barrel down on me, storm clouds churning, dark and
dangerous.
    He takes a step forward.
    I stumble back. My chest begins to hurt as
the cost of my magic slowly takes its toll. Waves of fire and ice
roll through me as my life is methodically stripped away by the
curse. But I keep the magic burning. I bite back the pain.
    Vines break through snow, stretching into
the sky.
    The beast wipes them away easily.
    But I keep throwing them at him. It's the
only thing I can think of. My magic is supposed to be beautiful and
gentle. It's not made for battle. But he is. Everything about him
screams weapon. Blood drips from his limbs and paws as thorns carve
into his flesh. Bright red droplets stain the snow. But he
continues moving forward, unrelenting.
    I know the exact moment he tires of this
game.
    A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest.
He pauses for just an instant. Then he leaps across the space
between us, opening his jaws wide, as though to swallow me
whole.
    Magic surges through me.
    A pine tree erupts from the ground,
exploding into the world like a bomb as snow and dirt are sent
flying. In less than a second, it stretches fifty feet high, trunk
growing thicker and thicker. Time slows. I fall back on the ground,
strength depleted.
    A deafening crack fills the air.
    The beast slams into the tree at full force,
shattering the sturdy wood. The ground shakes when his heavy form
drops down.
    Then silence.
    Long, lingering silence.
    I stand cautiously, peering through the
falling snow toward the unmoving body on the ground.
    Is he dead?
    Did I kill him?
    The idea provides no comfort. Instead,
anxiety racks through me. My lips quiver and my head begins to
shake back and forth with denial. I meant to stop him. I meant to
show him I could fight back, that I was strong too. I never meant
to…to kill him. Did I?
    I bite my lip as my heart skips a beat.
    Am I a murderer?
    "No!" I gasp.
    And then I'm running across the small space,
falling on my knees beside his motionless limbs. The bear is gone.
And with the cloak pulled away, I finally see the beast for who he
really is instead of the creature my fear turned him into.
    Not a monster.
    Not a king.
    A man.
    Young, just like me.
    I drop my ear to his chest, listening
desperately, sighing when I hear the gentle thump of his
heartbeat.
    Not dead.
    Knocked out, but not dead. At least not
yet.
    Relief floods through me. I'm not a killer.
Not a monster. And looking down at him, I'm beginning to wonder if
maybe the beast isn't either. With eyes closed in sleep, he looks
so gentle and innocent. Before I realize what I'm doing, my palm
reaches down to cup his cheek. His skin is soft. The heat of it
warms my frigid fingers. But it's not smooth. His face is laced
with delicate scars, some deeper than others. But he is so pale the
lines are almost translucent. Except for three severe cuts on
either side of his forehead, healed-over gashes slicing deeply
through his temples. They're nearly symmetrical, cutting into his
hairline just above both of his ears. My fingers drift up, tracing
his mutilated skin, before drifting higher to run through his
coarse onyx hair. It feels like velvety fur.
    A soft purr distracts me.
    I look over my shoulder into a set of bright
golden eyes. They look human. They look woefully concerned. But
it's the body of a snow