Free Unbearable by Wren

of the night I begged him to kiss me, now with knowledge of the
reasons why he wouldn't. He told me he was protecting me. I didn't know it was
from himself. But even in his bear form, he never hurt me. He didn't have it in
him. My heart hollows at the thought that I'll never have that last piece of
him. His kiss. Though his mouth tasted my flesh, his
lips have never known mine.
    Darien
tosses me a nod. “If it's all right with you Snow, may I spend the night in a
spare room of yours?”
    A smile smoothes Snow's lips. “Of course,
Prince Darien. My home is yours.”
    “Thank
you, m'lady . And please, Snow, call me Darien.” He
curls his hand around hers and a blush reddens her cheeks.
    My
heart warms as I watch them. Perhaps they may have a future together. Snow deserves it. At least one of us may end up happy.
    “I'll
come for his body in the morning,” Darien says as he turns to me.
    I
nod as they shut the door behind them.
    Even
in death, his face remains handsome and I cup his cheek with my hand. “I love
you, Marcus.” I lean in, press my lips to his, and steal my kiss from him. My first and my last.

Chapter Eight
     
    Something
shakes against my body. My eyes flutter awake and I glance around the pitch
black room. Cold air attacks my bare skin and a shudder claims me as I shake it
off. But something near me provides warmth against my chilled flesh. As my eyes
adjust to the darkness, her features come into focus.
    Rose.
    I suck in a gasping breath, and the cold air saws at my
lungs as if it's my first breath. My heart gives one heavy thump before
launching into quick erratic beats through my chest. I'm alive.
    As
I work my way through panting breaths, my heart slows and I look around the
room. The tiny cottage that's been my home for two years. I glance down at the woman who's been my life for two days. Her hands are
curled into my chest as if cleaving herself to me. Eyes closed, she slumbers,
but the sullen look on her face tells me it's not a peaceful one.
    Easing
from her grasp, I slide myself off the bed and stumble my way to the fireplace.
I pat my body down and relish in the flesh and blood, enjoy the sting in my
lungs full of winter's breath, and the pain throbbing through my head from Hestor's blow. It all means I'm alive. Somehow, I survived.
    Gray
light filters in from the small window across the room. I dart over to it,
pressing my hands flat against the cold glass. Though the pane is covered with
snow, the light making its way in comes from the dawn of sunrise, not of
moonlight. The sun paints the sky a brilliant pink and orange. Glancing down to
my hands, I flip them back and forth repeatedly, before I gaze back into the
light of day. The light of day. I am not a bear. I am
man. And it is day. I no longer suffer from the curse, which can only mean one
thing. Hestor is dead.
    I turn
back to Rose and glance over her face. My sleeping angel. She who freed me from this prison and has given me back my life. And I will give back hers as well.
    In
a fury, I get a fire blazing in the hearth and warmth swallows the cold from
the tiny room. I stare at myself in the mirror as I wash the dried blood from
my face and neck. Bruises already grace the side of my face, but I wear them
gladly if it means I still have breath in my lungs.
    Rose
stirs on the bed as the warmth hits her, pulling her from her ragged sleep. I
play through various scenarios in my mind, and none of them end without scaring
her half to death. Leaning against the wall arms folded, I stare down at her on
the bed. My lips sweep into a smile.
    She
rolls over and pats the empty bed next to her. Eyes wide, she leaps up,
tangling in the blankets tucked around her, and falls to the floor.
    I
drop to my knees at her side. “Rose,” I whisper.
    “Marcus?”
she stares at me.
    “It's
me,” I say with a smile.
    She
screams, just shy of shattering my eardrums. Leaping to her feet, Rose
scrambles to the edge of the room, pressing her back against the far