But I can’t, because she didn’t want to stay. That thought sits heavy in my gut.
“She wanted to help her father,” Rosalie tries when she finds me pacing the throne room. “That’s all. It doesn’t mean…”
“It means she chose him over me.”
“That’s not…”
“It is.” I round on the mirror. “She chose her old life. Her family. Her village. Everything that isn’t… this.” I gesture at myself. “Isn’t me.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic.” I slump on my throne, the same one where I fucked her just days ago, where she rode me and screamed my name. “The curse said she had to choose me. She didn’t.”
“She said, she loves you.”
“Words are easy.” My voice cracks.
Rosalie is quiet for a beat. Then she adds, “Give her time, sire. She’ll come back.”
But her voice lacks conviction.
I don’t eat that day. Can’t stomach the thought of food.
That night, I can’t sleep in our bed. Can’t stand the ghost of her scent, the memory of her warmth.
I end up in the rose garden instead, among the thorns and petals where this all started.
And that’s when I notice it. The enchanted rose, the one the enchantress left me, the one tied to the curse, is sitting on itspedestal under glass. It’s been glowing softly red for decades, unchanged. But now, one petal looks… duller.
I stare at it, cold dread spreading in my stomach.
“No,” I whisper.
The curse. The rose. They’re connected to the hope that love will break the spell. And if Belle doesn’t come back…
Another petal fades as I watch.
“Fuck.”
* * *
The next day, I stop pretending. She’s not coming back. Three days is more than long enough to check on an old man, make sure he’s good, and set up help. If she was coming back, she’d be here by now.
The bond has gone from pulling to screaming. It’s constant agony, like something vital inside me is being ripped away.
“Sire, please.” Louise finds me in the rose garden again, staring at the dying rose. Three petals have faded now. “You have to eat something. You’re getting weak.”
“Good.”
“That’s not…”
“I said good!” I roar, and she startles. “Let the curse finish what it started. Let it all end. What’s the fucking point anymore?”
“The point is, Ms. Belle might still come back…”
“She’s not coming back!” The words tear out of me. “She chose her family. Her village. Her life without a monster. And I don’t blame her. Why would she come back to this? To me?”
I gesture at myself… the fur, the fangs and claws, the beast that no amount of love could ever make handsome.
