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

as shame burns my chest. He is a
king. And I am just a girl lost in daydreams, dancing with ghosts.
I suddenly feel stupid as I stand before him in sneakers and jeans,
clutching the wool coverlet around my shoulders as though it is a
lifeline, as though it is my shield. I must look like a mess. I
never even ran my fingers through my hair, never searched for water
to clean my face. I've come here to beg the help of another royal,
another magic user thrown into a new world. I came here to be his
equal. I should have put on a dress. I should have presented myself
in a way befitting my station in life. I should have taken the time
to turn myself into the princess I once was, instead of settling
for the pauper I've become.
    And then I notice he is still laughing.
    At me.
    At my expense.
    And that little girl I heard before comes
back.
    How dare he mock me! How dare he!
    My anger stirs. She's right. How dare he
laugh at me after bringing me to his castle and locking me away
with no food, no explanation, no greeting. How dare he sneak around
in the shadows, watching me secretly, waiting until my most
vulnerable moment to present himself. How dare he mock me when he
is the one hiding beneath a layer of fabric, too afraid to show his
face.
    How dare he!
    I brace my feet, straightening my shoulders,
standing taller as I face him.
    "Princess Omorose Bouchene," I say,
surprised at the strength of my voice and how easily the language
of my old world rolls off my tongue. And then I curtsy, presenting
myself with far more confidence than I feel.
    He remains silent, watching me from the
shadows of his hood.
    The quiet drags.
    I can't stand it.
    "And you are?" I ask, words coming out
sharper than I'd intended. But I keep the annoyance burning in my
gut, embracing the newfound source of strength.
    "I thought you knew," he murmurs, voice
rumbling like a storm in the distance, ominous and foreboding.
    I swallow, forcing myself to whisper, "The
King of Beasts."
    He laughs, a wicked, savage thing. The hairs
on my arms stand despite the warmth of the blanket draped over my
shoulders.
    "You sound afraid."
    It’s not a question.
    I wonder if he can smell my fear.
    "I'm not," I say, but the words are airy,
hardly audible.
    The beast relaxes his pose, slouching
against the banister and crossing his arms over his chest. The
movement causes his sleeves to ride up, and I see his skin for the
first time. His forearms are starkly pale against the dark fabric,
but my eyes are immediately drawn to the raised, ridged lines
crossing over his flesh. He tenses, flexing strong muscles, and I
realize they are scars etched like cracks along his porcelain skin.
Before I can gawk more, his arms drop back to his sides and he
stands swiftly. The sleeves fall back down, masking him in black
once more. But the memory lingers.
    "Well, you should be afraid, Omorose." He
growls my name like wild thunder. "You should be very, very
afraid."
    I sense movement from the corner of my
eye.
    I don’t want to look. I know it will just
feed into whatever this beast has planned for me. But a shiver
works its way down my spine, growing stronger as terrified
anticipation mounts. I'm not a brave person. Not really. No matter
how hard I try. And when the scrape of claws reaches my ear, I jerk
my head to the side, searching for the source of the noise as panic
clenches my muscles.
    Wolves.
    A pack of wolves with dark slate fur creeps
closer, all eyes trained on me. Predators slowly stalking their
prey.
    Another sound catches my attention, and I
spin to the other side, stomach in my throat. Two giant black bears
emerge from the shadows, lips pulled back to show their sharp
canines.
    I hear another sound, but I don't wait to
see what it is.
    Fear takes over and I run.
    The last sound that filters into my ears as
I exit the ballroom is his laughter, dark and more dangerous than
any of the animals I've left behind.
    No one follows.
    They let me go. And I recognize the display
for what it is, a