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11
Rafael
The long shadows of sunset followed me to the campsite, where I hoped my new bride was still sleeping. She needed rest before tonight’s taxing ride. Meat sizzling over the campfire tantalized my bear’s sense of smell.
Hector sat by a cookstove, adding a pinch of something. “Rafael,” he said without looking up.
I ambled into the campsite on all fours and walked toward my tent.
Hector glanced up, briefly observing a gash on my shoulder I’d received from an angry festivalgoer, and frowned. “You can still make this work,” he said, his voice low.
The gash was painful—the steel blade had just enough iron to weaken me without killing me—but there was nothing to be done about it until after the change. Cursed flesh couldn’t be healed with magic. I pushed the tent flap aside with my snout and peered in at Talia, asleep on my bed and looking utterly at peace.
My nose recoiled from the overpowering citrus scent wafting from the tent. She’d used my oils, a smell I associated with freedom, with respite from my curse.
I withdrew my head and snorted. Like a flower plucked from its stem, she would wither in the blink of an eye. Faster if I had my way. By the end of the month, if I could win her heart, she would be no more. Yet to crush her would be to destroy something lovely.
Hector watched me, his expression brimming with reprimand. This wretched long tongue of mine was useless for speech, and Hector knew it. I knew he was going to lecture me before I was capable of a rebuttal.
“The vows were a smart move on her father’s part, but they didn’t change anything.”
This time, my snort was part growl. Those vows had changed everything.
Hector shook his finger at me. His companionship was more than I could ask for, a lifeline these past decades, but I hated when he abused his privileges of speech like this.
“You promised to protect her. You still can.” He ignored my intensifying breaths and continued, “You never specified what you would protect her from. There is the Wild Hunt; your brother, who will no doubt send someone to sniff out what you’ve done; the other residents on your estate; plenty of dangerous things she’ll need protection from.” He lifted both hands like he’d solved everything.
I stood and stormed toward him, my large nose only a few inches below his chest.
Hector backed up. “Okay, I see that you don’t agree. I’m simply trying to help you.” His shoulders sank.
My stomach rumbled at the scent of saffron and garlic as Hector stirred a large pot of rice filled with shrimp and mussels. For a moment, I glanced back at the tent where Talia slept. Had I heard a rustle of fabric from within?
“She’s only mortal.” Hector approached me, sensing my turmoil. “Let her take the curse as you planned. This time it will work, I know it will.”
Strangely, a dull knife of regret twisted inside me at the thought of watching Talia die from the curse inside of me, which made no sense. I hated mortals. They were utterly powerless, yet had the capacity to walk about on two legs every day. To sup with friends. To drink coffee as the sun came up.
I’d tried several times to win a mortal’s heart. Each time, I’d failed. Each time, when they’d seen my beast form, they’d fled. This time, I wouldn’t be so careless. To win her, I would have to hide my cursed form from her.
With a growl, I swiped my massive paw across the earth, spraying the campsite with dirt. Long claw marks stood out on the ground in the last of the sun’s rays.
“Rafael, this is your freedom we’re talking about.” He squatted right in front of me. “You can’t toss out this dream because the wording of some vow was tricky. You’re smarter than that.” He smiled and tapped the side of his head.
Dismissing him, I walked back to the simmering pot over the campfire. He was right in one aspect. The vow was broad enough that it didn’t shackle my original intent. My claws sank into the soft earth a moment before I collapsed to my furry belly.
Last night, I’d vowed to protect her, when in reality, I’d chosen her as the antidote to my curse. All I had to do was ensure a woman truly loved me, something my twisted brother assumed would be impossible for me, and I would be free—for only then would my curse pour into her, causing her soft, warm skin to rip apart into coarse bear hide. No mortal could survive that kind of shift.
I’d assumed saving her from that man in the market was a good first step in endearing her to me. Marriage was but another step in that direction, and it brought with it the power of the fae vows, which enabled our magic to mingle with that of another.
But as I’d spoken the words of the mortal vow, the ancient magic that bound every fae to speak the truth had woken in me a strange new desire. I’d wanted to protect her from the aches I felt every day from living in two different bodies. From the anger I knew when people recoiled from me. From the agony of the change. From the screams of lovers who learned the truth.
In Puerta, I’d quickly learned that Talia was fearless, and I’d snatched at that trait like plucking a trout from a stream. Perchance, I’d hoped, she would also not fear me.
Now I felt as if my black heart had rotted straight through, like a dead log left too long on the forest floor. Talia might be mortal, but she didn’t deserve this. I buried my snout under my paws—paws that would all-too-soon become permanent if I failed to break this curse.
At that moment, the sun slipped beneath the horizon, and my entire body bucked with the start of the change.
12
