All Chapters of The Cursed Alpha And His Rejected Bride: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

DianaWhen I entered the room, I did everything religiously. From clearing out the used dishes to dusting the cabinets, I made sure I didn’t look like I wasn’t doing anything.I turned over his bed and swept a little chafing to one side before I began looking for the book.That way, if he came in and I didn’t have enough time to cover my act, I had an alibi.The dirt.‘I was cleaning.’ Such an easy lie to tell.From there on, I turned the entire place upside down.Where was the goddamn book? Wherever it was, I was determined to find it, but holy moon goddess, he was good at hiding stuff.He told me not to touch his desk, so I avoided that with as much caution as I could.I just used my eyes to scan the entire place enough but saw nothing there of intrinsic value. Just a lot of papers where the writing on them made absolutely no sense to me.“How does v ever equal u plus at?” I chuckled as I continued my search. There was a long line of other things he wrote, similar to the initial ‘v

DianaI would never have been able to guess in a hundred years, that Edric was as good as I saw him play. When he played, my headshot into the clouds.I couldn’t believe it was happening, but his songs took me to places that I didn’t think were possible to go when I closed my eyes.He made me believe in the healing power of music.In my father’s house, music only existed to mock me. Each tune they played in jubilation was a direct jab at the life that I would never have. They told me with their songs, how happy they could be, and how left out I would be.Music made me feel lonely, but I must have been broken, because that was the one thing I clung to. No matter how scathing it sounded. No matter how much unhappiness the drums beat into me, I smiled.I smiled because it was an instrument.The player was the man.The harp struck a tune of rebuttal, but I hated the person who plucked the strings.It just made more sense. Now, I was able to enjoy the music that made the piano sound like s

DianaThe first thing that came to me while I was strategizing for ways to…end his life…was the one thing that made all werewolves run for the hills.Silver.I mean, it made sense to try this, since it was the one thing that served as the end of the road for all werewolves.Using normal blades to stab a werewolf hurts like hell, but in the right conditions, a werewolf would never die from it. The healing factor borne from the combination of man and wolf was just too strong.Silver, however, circumvented that strength.How? No one really knew.A lot of people believed that shapeshifters were impure beings, and because silver was a pure metal, it repelled anything that wasn’t of the original design of the creator.It made just enough sense for us to adopt, nothing else.However, if I was going to get a good chance at really doing damage to Edric, I was going to have to do more than just a stab in the chest with a silver knife.I was going to have to get the silver to soak into him. He n

DianaWell, that didn’t go as well as I planned.I thought I had all the mental resources and preparation to deal with the event that he didn’t die.But as I stepped out of that room, shaking and unable to see through the tears that welled over my eyes for whatever reason…I saw that it was the complete opposite.Something inside me was breaking.I had just killed a person twice…and now, I had to ‘kill’ him again. I had to kill him as long as he stood up.How?I had initially thought the feeling of disappointment was what was going to overwhelm me. I was also readying myself for the fear, in case he got angry or something else.I wasn’t prepared for the guilt.I wasn’t prepared for the way my conscience felt trapped. Like I was committing the murder over and over again. Two murders in less than a month. It didn’t matter if the man was still alive.The fact remained that I had sunk a knife into his chest, and my intentions were the same each time. To end his life.I couldn’t process t

EdricA sigh escaped my lips, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable. The very air in the room seemed to vibrate with the unspoken dread of what was unfolding. A mental breakdown. The fragile equilibrium I had hoped Diana had found felt like it was teetering on the precipice. If my recollections served me correctly – and they usually did, in their own fragmented way – this exact emotional collapse had been the catalyst for her initial illness.I desperately wanted to steer her away from that precipice, to prevent her from plunging back into that desolate state. I hated it. I couldn’t bear the thought of her tears falling because of me. It felt profoundly unnecessary.I was beginning to micromanage her every reaction, a frantic, internal calculus aimed at ensuring her happiness, or at the very least, the absence of sadness. This wasn't a habitual behavior, not a familiar pattern from my countless lives. This was different. This was her…and the intensity of my concern was, fran