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Cursed Cutlery

Hades' Cursed Luna

In a world where Lycans and werewolves are sworn enemies, Eve Valmont is a werewolf cursed by a prophecy and framed. Betrayed by her own pack and imprisoned for years, her fate takes a darker twist when she is offered to the Lycan King, Hades Stavros—a ruler feared for his ruthless conquests and deadly prowess. Bound by an ancient prophecy and haunted by the ghosts of her past, Eve is now at the mercy of the one being she should hate and fear the most—The Hand of Death himself. Hades, a king carved from blood and his own soul's decay, determined to avenge his family's slaughter and rid his people of the werewolves. He believes Eve is the key to his victory. To him, she is nothing but weapon foretold by prophecy, a tool he will wield to destroy the opposing forces threatening his pack. Yet, he finds himself craving this powerful yet broken woman. Leaving him questioning if she is truly his weapon or the one destined to unravel his carefully laid plans. *** He stalked toward me, a predator closing in on its prey, his eyes dark and unreadable. "So, you laugh?" His voice was low, dangerously soft, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how difficult it had become to breathe. "Hades, I—" "But you only laugh at other men's jokes," he interrupted, his gaze piercing, devoid of any humor. "Not your husband's." The accusation in his tone was sharp, slicing through the air between us. A nervous chuckle escaped me. "You can't be serious... He’s your beta, for Goddess’ sake." In an instant, he closed the distance between us, so fast it left me breathless. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against his body, the heat of him making my skin tingle. I gasped, but before I could say a word, his lips crashed onto mine, claiming my mouth with a force that sent shockwaves through me. The kiss was punishing, hungry—I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. When he finally pulled back, I was trembling, my chest heaving as I struggled to regain my breath. His eyes, dark and stormy, searched mine with a possessive intensity. "You can’t laugh at my jokes..." he whispered, his voice a dangerous rasp as his fingers trailed lower, sending a shiver down my spine, "but you’ll come with my fingers." I shivered, heat pooling low in my belly at his words, his touch. The world around us blurred, fading into nothing as his hand slipped lower, drawing a ragged gasp from my lips. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and there was no denying the primal connection between us in that moment. "I don’t need your laughter," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot on my neck. "I’ll have every other part of you instead." **** Dark fantasy romance Morally Grey ML Angst Suspense ENEMIES to lovers Smut (like sprinkles on your ice cream)
Lilac_Everglade · 735.8K Views

Cursed Facade

“Wake up.” The icy splash of water jolted Jasmine awake, her breath hitching as reality crashed down. Disoriented and trembling, she barely registered a hand striking her cheek. The sharp sting and the metallic tang of blood grounded her in a nightmare she couldn’t escape. Sebastian loomed over her, his presence as sharp and cold as the venom in his voice. “Welcome, princess. How do you find Montague's hospitality?” His smirk was colder than the water dripping from her face. “I bring news,” he continued, his words cutting like a blade. “Your father has finally met justice—straight to hell.” Jasmine froze, tears welling in her eyes. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “What happened to my father? What did you do to him?” Sebastian’s smirk twisted into something darker. “What did I do?” he repeated, his voice low and venomous. “I gave your father exactly what he deserved—for destroying my sister’s life, for tearing my family apart.” He leaned in closer, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. “But don’t mistake this for an ending, Jasmine. This is only the beginning.” Her voice cracked as she pleaded, “Please—you’ve got it wrong. My father and I would never harm anyone!” Sebastian’s grip tightened on her chin, his unrelenting gaze boring into her. “Spare me your innocence,” he hissed. “I should be glad he’s dead—but I’m not because I didn’t kill him myself. So I’ll settle for you. Every tear, every ounce of pain, will torment him in his grave.” Even as fear consumed her, Jasmine’s voice trembled with defiance. “You’re wrong. Whatever you think you know, it’s a lie.” Jasmine’s memories were fragmented, her past shrouded in mystery. She couldn’t even remember her father’s face, let alone the sins this man accused them of. She didn’t know where to begin, or who to turn to for answers. But one thing was clear: He wasn’t just her captor—he was her storm. And the storm between them had only begun.
Rumantic_Tales · 842 Views
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