Ashley Lavering
A nomad at heart, Ashley currently claims Nevada as her home. She has a wonderful husband and two young children that put up with her “writing time” on a daily basis. When she’s not pondering a spell that will magically calm the ferocious winds that plague the air around her, you can find her, with notepad in hand, frantically jotting down ideas in those short moments between caring for her girls.
Art and science have always been her yin and yang. Throughout her college career, she shifted between the two, but in the end she graduated with a Bachelors of Mathematics and Science from the University of Wyoming.
Charging into adventures and exploring new discoveries has always been a passion of hers, but as a teenager she used to run screaming from reading and writing assignments. Looking back, the irony isn’t lost on her. Now you can’t catch her without a book in hand or an open word document. Every time a new idea pops into her mind her heart races, and her hand twitches to write it. In that moment, she has her writer’s high and prays it will sustain her through thousands of hours of revision.
CURSE OF THE BEAST is her debut young adult novel and the start of an exciting writing career. Please support her by posting a review and recommending the novel to others. Ashley loves to hear from her readers, so please drop her a line. You can visit her on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter and her blog, Creative Thoughts: www.ashleylavering.blogspot.com.
STAR CURSED book 2 in the Curse of the Beast series is out now!
If you liked Curse of the Beast, then checkout WOLF SPELL by M.R. Polish.
A PREVIEW OF STAR CURSED
1. Suds and Pancakes
Tuesday, April 10
I groaned. My whole body ached, as if every cell was bruised. Exhaustion weighed on me like an x-ray blanket. With effort, I lifted my arm and rubbed my eyes, blinking the room into focus. The rosy light of morning filtered through the gossamer curtains covering the French doors. Embers from the previous night’s fire lay cool in the soot-stained hearth.
I was in Beast’s room. In his lodge. In the middle of nowhere.
I shifted uneasily under his comforter. Why had he let me continue to sleep in his bed? He could have easily carried me back upstairs to my room, but he hadn’t. He had willingly given up his bed for me, and my chest tightened. He was very possessive about beds, and the implication of his action wasn’t lost on me, warming my heat. I wrapped myself tighter in the blanket, accepting the protection he offered.
A mist of doubt clouded my peace. Had he done it out of guilt? My temples throbbed from the simple thought and I rolled over to my side, burying my head in the pillow. His musky woodland scent infiltrated my senses, transporting me back two nights ago—the night of the full moon. I could hear the terrifying sound of wolves pounding the ground as they chased me. I felt again the razor teeth sinking into my calf, ripping it open.
I jolted to a sitting position, my leg pulsing with sharp pain from the memory. I gripped the comforter as I rode the flashbacks that assaulted me. My breath hitched. I was back on the kitchen rug in a pool of my own blood—bleeding to death.
But I hadn’t died.
I held my throbbing, bandaged finger close to me as the memory of Beast’s fang slicing it open sent new pain through it. I’d never forget the way the fiery-liquid of his venom had spread through my body—changing it, forever.
If Beast was right, a month was all the time I had to rid myself of the poison in my blood and stop the transformation. Beast wasn’t even sure it would be a cure. It was just an old worn piece of paper he found in the alpha logs that said something about true love and a human. Finding true love was daunting, even when I was normal and had all the time in the world. Now I had to find it in a month, with one werewolf for a shadow and another inside my own head. Yeah, no problem, right?
I groaned and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My calf banged the wooden frame and I bit off a curse. This whole thing sucked. How was I going to find a guy to fall in love with me in time? And I with him?
What worried me the most was the prospect that Beast might be wrong and I would be a wolf forever, or that the change would kill me.
I shivered and wrapped my arms around my chest. The impulse to lay back down and let despair swallow me was tempting, but my mind flashed with the faces of my family. Aunt Lily, who had raised me from infancy; my two cousins, who I thought of as sisters; Grandma Jonas, whose spunk was contagious; and Uncle Stan, whose memory still weighed heavily on us all.
I won’t lie down. I won’t let this beat me. I owe it to them and to myself to fight until there is no hope left.
I clamped my jaw tight. There was still hope and I wasn’t alone. Beast was willing to help, and I was surprised to find how much I had come to rely on him. He was taking me home, back to my family, and that alone was a miracle.
My eyes flicked toward the nightstand where a fluted crystal vase cradled the infamous rose. The vivid scarlet petals flamed with yellow at the base. Its sheer beauty and symbolism stole my breath. How could something so beautiful represent the transformation into something so hideous? A single petal rested on the cherry wood stand, taunting me.
My shaky fingers plucked the petal from the polished wood. Breathing became difficult as I looked at the withered edges of the petal. My precious time as a human was already ticking away. How many petals were left? I tried to count them without touching the delicate rose, but it was impossible to tell.
I pressed the petal tightly to my chest. Please let there be a guy out there who can love me.
A sneeze brought my gaze sharply to the bedroom floor, where Beast lay curled in wolf form on a massive area rug. His silver eyes zeroed in on the red petal showing through my fingers. Rising, Beast closed the small gap between us until his moist muzzle touched my arm.
Memories of his concern and tenderness the night before threatened to break my brave façade, but I resisted the impulse to throw my arms around his furry neck. I’d never forget the way his hands had moved so gently to bandage my leg and how his caramel eyes had enveloped me in a warm cloud of protection.
I could’ve lost myself in those eyes, but I couldn’t think of that now. I had to stay focused on my cure.
Taking several deep breaths to steady myself, I crawled out of bed and tested my wounded leg. To my utter surprise, I could stand without crumpling to the floor in agony. Tentatively, I shifted my weight. My leg was still tender and stiff, but the sharp pain from yesterday had ebbed to a bone-deep ache, something that should be impossible. Half of my calf had been ripped off. I shouldn’t even be able to use it. I slumped back onto the bed. Trembling, I fingered the back of my calf, feeling the mended and whole flesh.
Dizziness spun my vision and I closed my eyes, slowing my rapid breathing. I thought Beast had said it was only a drop of venom. That I wouldn’t change so fast. My eyes flew open and I inspected my index finger, praying that I was just hallucinating. Where an angry gash used to be, there was now only a faded pink line. My breathing picked up and full panic began to set in. Beast jumped on the bed, knocking me onto my back. His head nuzzled my face. I curled into him, digging my fingers into his shaggy coat as I sobbed in despair. It was happening. I could see it with my own eyes. I was changing, and the fullness of that truth overwhelmed me.
I cried until my eyes closed in exhaustion. I woke to the bright rays of mid-morning. Beast had stayed with me, sharing his warmth and reassurance. My fingers glided across his soft coat. It was like his very presence was telling me it would be okay, and I held onto that like a life line. Slowly, I unraveled myself. His eyes watched me.
I gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.”
He licked my hand and jumped off the bed. It was time to fully test my leg. I stepped gingerly across the room, wincing each time I flexed my calf. My damaged leg ached and burned like fire ants were biting it. I guess it wasn’t as healed as my finger, but I could use it, and that alone was a magical feat. I continued my slow journey across the room to th
e bathroom.
By the time I reached the vanity, sweat glimmered across my brow. A large mirror reflected my oily brunette hair, knotted in a messy nest atop my head. It was in need of a good washing with some salon-grade shampoo. My stomach gurgled. I guess my hair would have to wait.
Before I rejoined Beast in the bedroom, I heard the distant clink, clink of dishes. Shaking my head muted the echoing noise, but it came back the instant I stilled. Could I hear what was going on in the kitchen? The thick log walls should have blocked all sound, with the kitchen two rooms away and down the hall. Besides, Beast was in the next room, so there should not be anyone around to make clattering noises.
Curiosity tugged at me. I exited the bedroom, leaning heavily on the walls. Beast followed on my heels. Once in the hallway, the sound of clanking dishes intensified and I could make out the sloshing of water and the soft breathing of someone or something in the kitchen. My eyes darted to the wolf beside me, making sure it was really him and not another from his pack. But there was no mistaking his silver-dusted brown pelt. Whoever was in the kitchen wasn’t Beast and couldn’t be another wolf, unless my mother had learned to wash dishes with her paws. Highly unlikely.
So was it a thief? I had no doubt Beast could handle a burglar, but his hackles weren’t up. He must know who the intruder was. I cocked my head at him.
“So who is it?” I asked. “Why are they here?”
He snorted and butted his head against the back of my good leg, as if impatient with my caution and questions. I would have my answers soon enough. I inched my way down the hall and pushed the oak door open. Rounding the fridge, I froze and blinked hard, unable to believe my eyes.
“Grandma?” My shocked voice vibrated through the kitchen.
Grandma dropped a plate and suds flew, splattering the general area and blending in well with her paint-splattered outfit. Grandma swiveled around, and her turquoise eyes locked on me.
“Tayla!” She wrapped me in a crushing, wet hug. My tender flesh shrank from the embrace, but the rest of me wished she’d never let go. Snuggling my face into the nook of her neck, I breathed in the faint scent of paint mixed with a tiny hint of her favorite lavender perfume. I sighed at the little piece of home. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her. She had a way of easing my worries, just with her presence.
“You sent my heart racing, sneaking up on me like that,” she said, gripping my arms to look at me. “Next time make some noise.”
I still couldn’t believe she was here. But no one else could make those camo-green pants and paint-splattered brown shirt look cool.
“How?” I asked, my throat tightening in emotion. I took a deep breath and forced the question out. “How can you be here?”
“That is a long story, dear.” She rubbed her neck as if she wasn’t sure where to start.
I tried to focus on her, but my eyes blurred. I sagged forward. The little strength I had was spent. I’d have hit the floor if not for Grandma’s quick reflexes.
“You should be resting,” she said with concern in her voice. “But I guess you couldn’t resist my cooking.” She winked. “Come. Let’s feed you before I force you back to bed.”
I gave a small chuckle. “You won’t have to twist my arm.”
Wrapping her arms around me again, she guided me to the dining room table. I sank into the chair, my limbs like jelly, and laid my head against the back of the carved chair.
The smell of blueberry pancakes wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble so loud that the room seemed to vibrate. I blushed and rubbed the noisy nuisance.
“Pancakes coming right up.” Grandma loaded my plate with a stack of her homemade pancakes drizzled in maple syrup.
I watched her stride back to the stove on the kitchen island, slapping pancakes onto a second gold-rimmed plate for herself.
“Am I dreaming?” My voice came out small, afraid everything would shimmer and disappear if I closed my eyes again.
“No, Tayla.” There was sadness in her voice.
“But how—” My unfinished question hung in the air as her plate hit the table with a clunk.
“Eat. There’s plenty of time for talking later.”
Without waiting for Grandma to say grace, I shoveled one bite after another into my watering mouth. Grandma would normally slap my hand if I took even one bite before she’d thanked the Lord for our bounty. A moment later, my food was gone and I wished for more, but the cooling griddle was empty. Downing two glasses of milk, I was more satisfied. Grandma gathered my dishes, but before she could move away from the table, I caught her arm. She stiffened.
“Grandma,” I said.
She shook her head, the first sign that she wasn’t handling everything as well as she portrayed. I studied her more closely. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her hands shook.
“Do you know how I was wounded?” I let go of her and picked at the sleeve hem of the robe I was wearing, unsure about her reaction.
Resigned, she sat back down, placing the dirty pile of dishes in front of her. “I guess the dishes can wait.”
Drowsiness weighed down on me, but I pushed it away, needing to hear her answer. Leaning back into my seat, I waited for her to speak.
“Did Beast call you?” I asked. Her silence was killing me. The lines in her face sagged in a sadness that was almost palpable. In that moment, and for the first time, she looked weary and old.
“Sort of.” She glanced at the wolf lying beside my chair and back up to me before she continued. “Last night, he sent Rose to me with a soggy message clutched between her teeth. She emerged from the shadows like a bullet, scaring the breath right out of me.”
I was riveted to the spot at the mention of my mom’s name. “Was the wolf gray?”
“A soft slate, yes.”
My lips tilted. Grandma’s artistic vocabulary, of course, just had to find a better word than gray.
So, it was my mother who’d protected me that terrible night of the full moon—the night I was bitten. My heart warmed. She loved me enough to have fought off the whole pack and endangered her own life by standing up to Beast. It was still crazy to think she had been a wolf my whole life and I had never known, never known that she hadn’t wanted to abandon me.
Then something important occurred to me. I quirked an eyebrow at Grandma. “How did you know it was Mom?” I hadn’t even known it was Mom when I’d first met the gray wolf.
Grandma took a deep breath before answering. “I was never certain until last night, but I knew my little gray wolf was different. I’ve been tracking her for years. She would venture much closer to me than the other wolves, but it wasn’t until Beast sent her with the message to my campsite that I knew for sure.” She shook her head. “Not that she didn’t scare me plenty, coming out of the shadows like some grizzly bear.”
I nodded. I knew that feeling well. “What did the note say?”
“That you were hurt and to follow the wolf.” Grandma chuckled humorlessly. “Honestly, I thought I was hallucinating. I’m still not sure what to think.”
A rueful smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah, I tried buying into that theory, but the hallucination doesn’t go away. It just gets worse and worse.”
“Oh, Tay.” She reached over and captured my hand.
I squeezed her fingers. “Is it wrong of me to be glad you’re in this mess with me?”
“Family sticks together, no matter what form we take.” She patted my hand with her free one.
I grimaced at her choice of words. “So Beast told you?”
“Beast was in his human form when I finally arrived.” She shifted, releasing my hand to run her fingers through her spiked hair. “He explained what had happened to you and to…to Rose.”
Her voice was tainted with sadness. “Tay, I’m not sure what I can do. I failed Rose, and the only positive thing I can scrape from this whole thing is the twisted logic that you will finally be with your mother again.” A deep loneliness filled her eyes.
&nbs
p; My gaze fell to my hands gripping the robe’s thick fabric, pulling the seams to bursting.
“Did he tell you how long I had left?” I could hardly speak the words as emotions clogged my throat.
“Yes,” she said.
A high-pitched scratching on the sliding glass door echoed through the room like squealing tires before a crash. I winced and clapped my hands over my ears. Grandma looked at me with a raised eyebrow before turning her attention to the source of the noise.
“Rose! There you are.” Grandma’s voice filled with excitement, cutting through the residual sadness hanging in the air. Her crestfallen expression transformed into a brilliant smile, and she yanked open the door.
A gray wolf stood patiently on the other side, staring straight at me. Her eyes enveloped me in a warmth I can only describe as my mother’s love, and a tingle shot down my spine.
How did I ever doubt my little gray protector was anyone other than my mother? As if answering my unspoken question, Beast nosed the back of my hand, encouraging me forward. My mother stood so close to me, just on the other side of a door, but I couldn’t close the distance. I sat paralyzed.
Through the open door, a gush of cold wind poured into the kitchen. Hugging my fluffy robe closer to me, I watched my mother’s eyes flicker to Beast’s as if asking permission to enter his house. Some unnoticed approval must have occurred, because she placed a tentative paw on the tiled floor. My hands felt slick, and I fumbled for words as I watched her slow progression across the room. Here she was, and I didn’t know what to say. Countless times I had imagined meeting my mom. I had even planned out what I would say and the answers I would demand. But never had I imagined her as a wolf, unable to answer any of those questions.
She halted next to my chair. I still hadn’t moved an inch. Shyly, she nuzzled the hand resting on my thigh. My fingers curled into the gray fur around her ear. It was as soft as a rabbit’s coat. I bent forward, gazing intently into her brown eyes.
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