All Chapters of LOVE ME LIKE A CURSE: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

75 Chapters

CHP-30[BEHIND CLOSED DOOR SECRETS]

The Hidden Order of D'Aragon Enterprises --- The corridors of Aragon Enterprises did not sleep when the clock struck six. To outsiders, the building was a cathedral of glass and steel—gleaming with late-night ambition, humming with fluorescent lights, alive with the thrum of productivity. But those who worked the late shift knew better. Not all were told why the elevators kept running long after the city outside fell quiet. Not all questioned why certain names never returned to the morning roster. Most were too tired, too naïve, or too spellbound by the allure of a paycheck and prestige to notice the truth. The rules, of course, had always been there. Posted in the company handbook like harmless formalities, tucked in between clauses about dress code and professionalism. *No silver accessories. *Keep your neck bare. Minimal jewelry only. Most employees had laughed at those at first. A quirky, eccentric rule from a centuries-old company with an archaic reputation hidden in

CHP-31

ARABELLA --- It is my second day getting dressed and ready for today’s work. Yesterday, I slept off early and stopped the conversation with Rhea and Elias when they made a playful joke while asking how my first day went. I remember the look on their faces when I walked away, pretending to be annoyed. Rhea’s pout, Elias’s exaggerated groan, the way they called after me like children who had been scolded. I smiled inside me whilst walking away. I loved how I made them feel I was angry with them—when in truth, I wasn’t. Now, as I button my blouse and smooth the fabric in front of the cracked mirror, I hear hushed whispers outside my room. Rhea’s voice—dramatic, hushed. “She’s still mad at us, Elias. I can feel it. She’s going to give us the silent treatment forever.” Elias scoffs, not even trying to be quiet. “Please. she's not the type to hold grudges… unless it’s about us making fun of her. Then maybe.” I roll my eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips. I s

CHP -32[ A GLIMPSE OF HIM]

--- The first hour passed in quiet rhythm. Pages to sort, names to type, numbers to double-check. Mrs. Heidi appeared just after nine, heels striking the polished marble floor. A string of pearls graced her throat. She carried a binder tucked beneath one arm, and when she glanced our way, her eyes flicked over me like a scanner. “Miss Vale,” she said, her voice crisp but not unkind. “Settling in, I hope?” “Yes, ma’am,” I answered quickly, straightening in my chair. My voice sounded small in the expanse of the office floor. Her mouth twitched into the faintest smile, though it carried no warmth. “Good. Efficiency is noticed here, Miss Vale. And inefficiency is… remembered.” With that, she clicked past us, her heels echoing long after she disappeared into her office. Maya let out a low whistle once Mrs. Lanchester was out of earshot. “Don’t worry, she terrifies everyone. Even the senior staff.” “I believe it,” I murmured, exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been h

CHP-33[A GLIMPSE OF HIM II]

My body was here, typing, but my mind… my mind was caught on the image of him, the echo of authority in the way he carried himself. It really left a mark on me—quiet but sharp. But I don't understand why I kept feeling this way And underneath that mark, a hunger stirred. Not for him. Not exactly. But for the brush. For canvas, for paint. For the language I had buried years ago apart from the painting fest, that was the last time i painted. I clenched my hands in my lap, flexing my fingers as though the phantom weight of a paintbrush had just settled there. It was ridiculous. I was at work. I was supposed to be efficient, focused But every number I typed blurred into images, every list melted into shape of art. Like the brush was calling me again. By the time Maya nudged me and asked if I wanted coffee during the second break and asked if i was okay, I nearly jumped out of my chair. “No, thanks,” I managed, my voice tight. --- When five o’clock finally came, I packed

CHP-34 [THE RITUAL: CRESCENT OATH RITE CON'TD]

Setting : Old Elder Vampire Court ___ :THE BLOODLIT CAVERN ************************************************ [> **“Veythur drak’shael, Eldreth morûn varthas! Ixthar velûm shaelor, thren’dral ossar vey’nath. Crescendath Oth’yr, dravûn ixthir vel shaen, draegor velûn, mortha ixthar, thalos verûn. Kael’vorr ixthar! Seythar draegor veythral ossûn, morûn kaethra, shalûm verath, ixthir naxthir evarûn. Ysoldeh aeth’ryn vel shaen, naethra veythral, tharos’kai veruun, ossar valûm, draegor shaelor. Crescendath Oth’yr ixthar sevelûn! Veythral shaen draegor, mortha ixthar vey’ruun, serath valen draegor, shaen ixthar valûm!**] --- [“Children and elders of fang and shadow, mark this day! The hour of the Crescent Oath is upon us. No longer do we whisper of prophecy in hidden corners—tonight, we stand as one blood, bound to the old law, Tonight, all bloodlines bend beneath the ancient covenant, and none shall turn aside. The hand that draws the rune is no mortal’s hand

CHP-35

The apartment smelled like garlic and onions when Elias shoved open the door with his shoulder, his backpack hanging half-unzipped from one arm. The clatter of his sneakers on the entryway floor carried the careless rhythm of someone who hadn’t yet learned the art of moving quietly in shared space. “Rhea?....... You burning something again?” he called, tossing the bag against the wall like it owed him money. From the kitchen, her voice shot back—mock- but sharp enough to cut through the rising hiss of oil in a pan. “Excuse you, Elias Vale. I don’t burn things. I caramelize them with personality.” Elias snorted, dragging a hand through his hair as he kicked off his shoes. The air was thick with warmth and the buttery smell of something frying. His stomach, empty from skipping lunch, gave an impatient growl. He wandered toward the kitchen, leaning lazily against the doorway. “Caramelize with personality? smells more like you’ve picked a fight with the stove again.” Rhea Morea

CHP-36

--- Elias grabbed two plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter with a soft clink. “Alright, Sleeping Beauty’s feast is almost ready. I just hope she shows up before we start eating.” He leaned on the counter, arms crossed, watching her work with exaggerated interest. “I swear, you could win awards just for the drama you put into cooking. Every stir is like choreography.” Rhea rolled her eyes. “You’re just jealous ,you don’t have that kind of grace. Look at you, hovering over the salad like a lost tourist.” “I’m inspecting it for quality control,” he said solemnly, tapping a leaf with a finger. “Can’t let anyone slip subpar lettuce past me. You know the rules.” “You and your rules,” Rhea muttered, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “If Bella were awake, she’d probably groan at us both.” Elias grinned at the thought. “She’d definitely groan. Or give me that weird side-eye that melts my soul into panic mode. I mean, who gave her that look anyway? Genetic curse or

CHP-37[A FACE FORGOTTEN]

--- Later that night, --- The apartment had settled into a quiet, almost sacred stillness. The city lights outside spilled soft gold through the curtains, painting thin streaks across the floor. Arabella slept in the dim room, her chest rising and falling with measured breaths. In the depth of her sleep, the world of waking did not exist. The faint hum of traffic, the occasional creak of the building settling—all of it dissolved into a shadowed landscape woven by her mind, a realm of half-formed shapes and whispers Her eyelids flickered, and her hands twitched against the sheets as if reacting to something unseen. She was running. Or perhaps floating. Her legs moved, but there was no sense of the ground beneath her. She could feel something behind her—a presence that tugged at her chest and whispered against her mind, though no words formed. Panic flared, sharp and hot, yet there was a pull, a magnetic draw she could not resist. The trees were impossibly tall, their bran

[A LETTER TO YOU !]

Dear Reader, Thank you for your time in reading this letter and for taking a moment to step into the world of Love Me Like a Curse, a story I have poured my heart into. I know your time is precious, and the fact that you’ve chosen to spend it reading this book—even for just a few chapters—is something I do not take lightly. --- If you’re reading this book—or have wandered through its pages up to this point—first, I want to thank you. Truly. Thank you for stepping into the world I’ve lived in fantasy, breathed, and written into every chapter. Writing this story has been a journey of echoes, memories, and brushstrokes, and to see someone walking beside Arabella as she navigates her tangled, sometimes painful, sometimes intoxicating reality—it is a gift I cannot understate. From the quiet corners of her apartment to the distant murmurs of a world she does not yet understand, your eyes have followed her, your mind has felt her hesitation, her longing, her hunger. You have lived a p

CHP-38[A FACE FORGOTTEN CON'TD]

The Following Morning --- The morning found me before my alarm did. Light pressed against my eyelids, warm and insistent, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I had truly left the dream at all. My body felt heavy in the sheets, but my mind… my mind was still trailing. I sat up slowly, my hair falling across my face, damp at the roots like I’d been sweating through the night. My throat was dry. The dream clung to me, not in the fleeting way ordinary dreams did, but in that stubborn, marrow-deep way that whispered you didn’t imagine this—you remembered it. I dragged my fingers across my face and whispered into the quiet room, “Who are you for the second time?” The sound startled me. My own voice was hoarse, scratchy, carrying more ache than a simple question should. But it wasn’t simple anymore, was it? The man in my dream, the man in the painting—they couldn’t both exist and be coincidence. My brush had captured his face before I ever dreamed of him. My dream had echoed the

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