A man is cursed on his wedding day for a crime he had no hand in. Now he must wait for all eternity to redeem himself or he loses the love of his life forever, and his soul.
A man is cursed on his wedding day for a crime he had no hand in. Now he must wait for all eternity to redeem himself or he loses the love of his life forever, and his soul.
The wind howled and the breeze that followed rattled the stool, the noise jerked the drunk old man back into consciousness. Old Adam opened his sleepy eyes a little. He wiped the saliva from the bottom of his lips where he sat hunched over in his lounge chair, Everywhere in the cemetery was pitch black. How come the night came so suddenly? The old man thought in his mind. It was barely hours ago when the sky was painted in hues of different colors...
The little fire he had made close to him to get him warmed was already out and he began to search for his torch, with his hands searching everything on the stool and around him, blindly. At first, his hand touched the metal cup on the table, he was careful enough not to tip the cup over. Finally, he felt his feet pressing on something hard on the ground, and then he remembered, he had purposely kept the torch under his feet for easy finding. Old age was catching on him. He turned on the torch but the night was too thick and there was not a single star in sight. The torch in his hand could only allow him to see about an arm's reach in front of him but it was not a problem, he was used to this.
Slowly, he stood up from his chair, it was almost time for him to leave the grave yard, he was supposed to stay till the following morning but these days, no one was supervising him, meaning he could leave anytime it grew dark, no one would come to find him or ask for anything. Except someone who wanted to speak to the dead-there was no such person.
Slowly, he removed his jacket from where he had hung it around the chair and dipped the bottom of the torch into his mouth, holding it in place with both lips while he stuck a hand into the jacket to wear it comfortably.
Apart from the darkness and himself, the only thing that existed was the chilly wind that sent harsh bites through his jacket and into his skin. It was very cold, unusually cold. His blood was running cold and his hands became stiff.
He placed the stool in its rightful place and folded up the lounge chair. He would need to lock the east gate before going to his house. He groaned, but he knew there was no choice.
Minutes later, he was walking slowly and carefully, bypassing the graves towards the east side. While he walked, he kept flashing the torch at the tombstones so as not bump into any of them. He wondered why the night was this cold, the day had been so hot and now, well, maybe they were having a weather change, His mind drifted off to the hot cocoa he would have on getting home, the thought of that sent warmth through his entire body and he smiled to himself but the excitement was cut short as he suddenly hit his hand against something heavy and sharp.
"Oh my God!" He yelped in pain, flashing his torch towards the substance and to his dismay, it was a white coffin.
For a while, he thought he was probably still drunk. He rubbed his eyes but there it was.
This was insane! Who would put a coffin just anywhere in a grave yard? He thought to himself. Could this have happened when he was asleep? Did anyone forget to bury their dead loved one? All these questions were running through his mind when all of a sudden he heard a sound.
In all the years that Adam had spent guarding the graveyard, he had never experienced anything like this before. Still, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
He closed his eyes and opened them again.
Silence!
He breathed a little and was about going on his way when he heard that sound again. All the hair at the back of his neck stood up as he realized that someone was knocking in the coffin. His two legs were shaking vigorously and the cold immediately left him sweating.
"Go, go away! You don't belong to this world anymore!" He stammered and was about to make a run for it when a shattering noise sent him flying, dropping his torch which was now pointing directly to the coffin.
His heart was beating rapidly as if it would fall out of his chest, He was now lying faced down on the ground, wide-eyed and saying his last prayers. Too afraid to look at the ghost or whatever was about to come out of the coffin.
While he said his prayers fearfully and quickly, he could hear movements behind him. He knew he was really done for. Still he continued.
"Hello there." Said a voice behind him and he stopped. It was a man's voice. Quickly he looked behind him and that was when he saw him. He was standing right behind him, all suited up even though he couldn't see his face. As if reading his mind, the man picked up the torch and flashed it to his own face so Adam could see him.
He was a tall white man in a brown suit and he looked nothing like a ghost.
"So, now that you can see that I am not a ghost, I need you to answer one question. What year is it and where am I?"
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
He backed her against the wall, his voice a low growl. "Don't call me uncle." A teasing smirk touched her lips. "I gave you everything," she whispered. "But you said I was your partner's daughter. That it could never work. The choice was always yours." Prince Matthew's hand cradled her throat, his dominance a palpable force. "The age gap is nothing! only few years. I am not your uncle." The fear of losing her shattered his control. His mouth crashed down on hers in a searing, desperate kiss. His mind screamed that she was forbidden, but his body craved her, and his wolf demanded to claim its mate. With a final surrender, he pressed his teeth to her neck, marking her forever. "You are mine," he vowed possessively. "Only mine." As a billionaire hiding his identity as the next Alpha King, control was his currency. He never expected to fall for his best friend's rebellious daughter. One night was a mistake. A second was a betrayal. But claiming her as his mate? That was a risk he was finally willing to take.
Years ago, Cathy's husband threw himself into danger to save her. Then fate cut the cord-after the accident, he remembered everyone but the woman he'd once died for. On their third anniversary, he betrayed her, and that night she signed the divorce. Freed, she dusted off her hidden brilliance: miracle healer, racing legend, elite hacker, visionary designer. When his memories roared back, regret did, too. He stormed her wedding, pleading, "Cathy, please, one more chance!" But a certain trillionaire held her close and huffed, "Honey, someone's asking for trouble."
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