Page 17 of Ruin & Desire
Outside, the gardens are chaos. Roses tear themselves from the earth in violentspasms,their petals swirling through the wind like drops of blood spilled across fresh snow. The curse is restless, jealous,andseething for dominance. It wants herruined, not cherished. It wants mecruel, not weak. It wants to remind me that love is forbidden formonsters,that mercy is a chain meant to strangle hope. Even now, I feel its claws in my mind, gnashing at every tender thought, every memory that threatens to soften me.I hear Erik set the tea tray on the table and a few seconds later, the door softly closes behind him.
“I am the Vessel,”I snarl. My voiceisraw, shredded by terror and defiance.“Youcan’thave her. I will not let you.”The words feel hollow, swallowed by the cold. The thorns constrict in response, choking the sound in my throat. Agony explodes through me, and I slam my fists into the wall, the force shuddering through the room like a thunderclap. Deep cracks spider outward from the impact,anddust rainsfrom above. There is no relief, no catharsis—only the certainty that every act of rebellion, every fleeting hope, only strengthens the curse’s hold.
When I look down, my hands are slick with blood, crimson rivulets tracing paths along my furandpainting the floor beneath my feet. The thorns drink greedily from each drop, as if my suffering is theirfeastandmy resistance fuels their hunger. The pain is relentlessandunyielding, the price for every moment I dared to dream of mercy.
In the fractured glass of the window, I catch a glimpse,a warped reflection, flickering between monster and memory.Her eyes haunt me: wide, sharp,andalive with impossible gentleness and rage. Her mouthisswollenanddefiant, marked by the kiss I daredtosteal. Her throat, pulsing beneath my hand, remindsme how I held her, how I could have crushed her, and yet Ididn’t. Icouldn’t. The restraint it cost me is what terrifies me most, not that I lost control buthowI found a part of myself that stilldesirestenderness.For one heartbeat, I wanted more.Iwanted so muchmore than the curse will ever allow, more than I have any right to ask for.
The man in the mirrors—Lucien, the husband, the father—claws inside me, desperate for the light Annabel brings, for the forgiveness and warmth thatnearly brokethrough the darkness. Her fire stirs him, beckons him to the surface,anddareshim to reclaim what was lost. If I let him rise, the Beast will weaken. I willfracture. And when that happens,the Serpent-Crown will come for her.They will snatch Annabel as they took Evangeline, as they took Grace,leaving me with nothing but ashes and chains and regret.The curse will not let me be both monster and man. It will tear me apart, and it will punish her for every weakness I show.
Blood drips from myfingers,a morbid pledge to the curse, painting the stones with my torment. I clutch at my chestandsnarl against the pain, wishing desperatelyforittodrown out the memory of her touch—wishing I could truly be the monster thecastledemandsandI could sever whatever binds me to her.
It’sbetter toremainthe Beast. Better that shehateandfearme.It will besafer for her, safer for me,andsafer for whatever is left of our broken world. Love is sharper than claws or teeth, and I know now how much I can lose if I dare to want it.
And still, my lips burn with her name. Annabel. The syllables are both lifeline and curse, echoing through the empty halls and the shattered ruins of myheart. The castle shudders beneath the violence Ican’tcontrol. I press my bloodied hand to the glass, watching as the roses coil and writhe, their rage mirroring mine. Ican’tkeep her safe if I let myself grow weak. Ican’tlet her into the heart of this ruin and expect her to survive the consequences that follow.
Yet I crave her. The bond between us pulsessteady, bright, and hot.It’sa thread that refuses to break no matter how hard I try. I hear her heartbeat in the distant corridors, feel the echo of her pain and longingreverberatethrough my own chest.I close my eyes, wrestling with the monstrous shadow that clings to me, refusing to let go.I am a wound,open, bleeding,anddangerous.I am a monsterthe world ought to fear. But tonight, for one fleeting, breathless instant, I almost believed I could be more.
Chapter fourteen
Testing the Chains
Annabel
The castle thrashes with secrets, its restless heart pounding louder than ever before. Each stone seems alive, trembling with the memory of his mouth on mine. The walls pulse as if they want to devour me, their ancient magic stirring with anticipation. I can feel the castle’s hunger in the shadows, which flicker above me like restless specters refusing to let me hide from the truth we’ve unleashed. My wrist aches. No, it burns, the mark blazing in time with the thunder, calling me back to the place where our bodies collided, even as my lips still throb from his fierce, reckless kiss. The echo of his breath is seared into my skin.
I prowl the length of my chamber, unable to find peace or purpose.The firelight iswan, barely illuminating the marble, but it smolders, casting golden beamsacross the scattered remnants of ourkissandthe faint scent of him lingering like a forbidden prayer. Every time I close my eyes, the memories surge. Mybreathstutters,my mindcaught between terror and a longing so deep it aches. Myhunger mirrors his, wild and unguarded, imprinted in the heat of his grip and the desperate fire in his gaze.
He ran from me, as he always does. The monster inside him wars with the man, and whenever a flicker of humanity surfaces, he drowns it beneath rage andself-loathing. But last night, as his lips bruised mine, I glimpsed the man imprisoned within. He wasthe broken husband, the shattered father, the soul whodesperatelyaches beneaththehornsandclaws:Lucien. I saw him. I tasted him. I refuse to let him vanish into the abyss again, not when hope is so close,I can taste it, not when passion threatens to burn away the curse.
I return to my chambers aftersupper. The mist outside drifting, moonlight shimmering across rose-stained shadows as the castle’s magic coils around me in an uneasy hush. Tonight, Iabandonmy room again, not because the castle whispers, notbecauseits haunted corridors beckon, but by my own will. I am done with being manipulated by this place and fear. I am done with waiting. I want to seize control, to chart my own path through the labyrinth of pain and enchantment, and to find the man inside the Beast and claim him, no matter what price I must pay.
The corridors resist, fighting me with every step.Doorsslam shut in my face, rattling thestonesandsending icy drafts swirling around my ankles. The torches shrink, their flames nothing but sullen embers, as if the castle itself wants to confine meandkeep me isolated. But I press my palm to the wall, feeling the pulse of the brand on my wrist. Our bondremainssearing and undeniable, so Ipush harder, refusing to be caged by magic or dread. The walls groan, then yield,opening a path that I carve by sheer determination, by the fever that drives me forward.
I follow the echo of his torment,an ache soprofound,it draws me throughthedarkness. The castle wants himcruel. It wants me broken. But last night proved we are more than our curses, more than the twisted fate that binds us.Neither of us is so easily destroyed.
I find him in the great hallsurrounded bya cathedral of secrets and shattered trust.He stands before the hearth, flames painting his horns in bloody arcs, his massive frame tenseandtrembling. His back is braced, as if he bears the weight of theworld,his claws curled and trembling, barelycontainingthetorment inside. The air is thick withthe scent ofroses and smoke, oppressive heat pressing us closer, suffocating with promise and fear.
He senses me before he turns,and when he speaks, his voice is shredded, barely more than a growl, raw silk, dangerous,and exhausted.“You shouldn’t be here.”The words tremble, a warning nearly lost to his anguish.
I step into the firelight, refusing to retreat, my chin high despite the tremor in my chest.“Then stop me,”I say, every breatha challenge, even as my heart thrashes in my ribcage, desperate and terrified.
His claws flex and unflex. The tension in his bodyispalpable,the flames behind him leaping higher as if the castle itself wants to swallow us whole.“Doyou have any idea what you’re doing?”His words crackle, filled with fear and fury, the flames echoing his turmoil.
I force myself to meet his gaze, to stand firm as the storm threatens to consume us both.“Yes,”Ianswer. My voiceisa challenge, my bodya dare.“I’m testing the edges of your chains.”I want to know how far the curse will let me go, how much of the man I can drag from the depths before theBeast devours him.
He stiffens, every muscle taut with restraint. The fire roars, shadows racing across the walls. The roses at the windows rattle theirthorns,crimson dew glimmering with menace.“You think this is a game?”hesnarls, his voice sharp, wounded,andnearly broken.“I am not—”
“You are not only aBeast.”My words cut throughthe tension,sharperand more desperate than I meant.“The man you were is still inside you. I saw him in themirrors. I tasted him when you kissed me.Don’tlie to yourself, Lucien.”My pulse rushes, daring him to admit what we both know:that passion can break even the strongest chains.
He falters,hisbreath ragged, caught between denial and longing. He steps forward, horns casting shadows across my face,and hovers hisclaws at my throat, not touching but trembling. The air between us sparks, hot, suffocating,andcharged with everything we fear to say.
“Careful, Annabel.” His whisper is a velvet threat, dangerous. “Push me, and you’ll find the monster wins.” His eyes are locked on mine, like he’s barely holding himself together.
I should flinch. I shouldrecoil from the edge of his warning, but desire pulls me closer. The heat of his body, the fire in his eyes,andthe bond that sears between ushavemelean in, refusing to back down.“Then show me,”I whisper, daring him to confront his own darkness.
His gaze blazes, torn between fury and hunger. His claws graze my skin, light as a feather, tracing the line of my jaw, the hollow of my throat. My breath stutters, but Istandmy ground, refusing to be cowed by terror or longing. My heart is a drumbeat in my veins, every pulsea demandfor more.
“You tempt your own destruction,”hesays, voice thick with raw anguish and desire.
