Accueil / Werewolf / Curse of the Moon's Bride / Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 10

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The Lifeless Omega

Once again, I regained consciousness. The feeling of dirt under my cheek meant a lot of things, and most importantly, that I was alive. I survived another full moon.I opened my eyes with no idea of what had happened in the past hour. All I knew was that the full moon had just passed and the curse had struck me again. I tried to move. Nothing happened. My limbs were dead weight, as if the earth had claimed them.Distant chatters and faint howls came from the pack house. All I could do was wonder when this curse would end – and how. I could feel the wolf inside me going silent, like a caged and tortured animal just hoping to die.Soon, I heard boots approaching. Pack members passing by, only to see me on the ground. They stopped. For a second, there was silence.Then one of them spoke out: “Is she dead this time?”Another replied, “How about we find out?”They came close and turned me over. As soon as they did, a chilled pain shot down my spine. I gasped and tried to breathe.Then Mara

The Curse’s Price

Morning came. I woke alone. My body still hurt, but less than before. The healing had started. I looked at my wrist and noticed the silver scar was actually getting dimmer. I didn’t know what it meant, so I let it go.The door opened and Mara walked in. It wasn’t the Mara I knew. This time she was cold. She handed me a bucket and a rag and said, “Alpha says you are well enough to clean. Start with the pack hall.”I ignored Mara’s coldness. I tried to stand, but my legs buckled. Mara watched but didn’t help. She yelled, “I said clean, not rest.”I looked at her for a second. She avoided my eyes. Then I crawled to the bucket and pulled myself up using the cot. My wolf growled weakly inside me. That was the first sign of life from it since the full moon.As I left to clean, I whispered to myself, “He wants me to break. But I won’t.”I got to the pack hall – a large wooden building where wolves eat and gather. As I entered, dozens of pack members stopped talking. Eyes followed me. Whisper

The Training Yard

I didn't sleep after the dream. After the voice. When Mara's knock came at dawn, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling. My legs slid off the bed, and for a second I braced for the shaking. The weakness. The familiar betrayal. It didn't come. I stood there, waiting. Nothing. My knees held. I swallowed and took a step. Then another. Careful at first. Testing. But the ground didn't tilt. My muscles didn't give out. It felt… wrong. Or maybe right. I didn't know anymore. I stepped into the hallway. The basement smelled like damp stone and old dust, same as always, but the air felt thinner somehow. Easier to breathe. Mara's words echoed in my head. Be in the training yard. Don't make him come find you. I walked. Up the stairs. Past the narrow corridors. Out into the open. Morning light hit my eyes, and I blinked hard. It felt too bright. Like I didn't belong in it. Heads turned. They always did. But today it was different. Brows furrowed. Voices dropped into whispers t

The Healer's Secret

The yard emptied slowly.Boots scraped against dirt. Voices dropped low. No one laughed this time.I stood where they left me.For a moment, I didn't move. I couldn't.Then it hit.The adrenaline drained out of me like water through cracked stone. My knees softened. My shoulder flared, sharp and angry. My ribs ached with every breath.I sucked in air through my teeth.It should have been worse.I knew it should have been worse.Grey hadn't held back. Not at the end. And I'd hit the ground – twice. Hard.But the pain… it lingered instead of swallowing me whole. Dull where it should have been blinding.I lifted my wrist.The scar stared back. Thin. Silver. Quiet.Like nothing had happened.But I remembered the heat. The way it had burned under my skin. Gold, not silver. Alive, not dead.My fingers hovered over it, then pressed lightly.Nothing.Still… I could feel it. Not on the surface. Deeper. Like something waiting just beneath the skin.My wolf stirred.Not loud this time. Not angry

The Alpha's Curiosity

I woke before the sun.Not because I wanted to – but because sleep had abandoned me hours ago, leaving me alone with Mara's voice echoing through the dark.They'll fear you. Or worse – they'll use you.The words curled through my chest like smoke, impossible to clear out. I lay still on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of my basement room, listening to the silence press in around me. Even the usual sounds – the distant footsteps, the muffled voices – felt muted, like the whole pack was holding its breath.Slowly, I lifted my arm.My wrist caught what little light slipped through the narrow window. The crescent scar sat there, quiet. Silver. Lifeless.But it didn't feel lifeless.I brushed my thumb over it, frowning. It wasn't glowing – not like yesterday – but there was warmth beneath my skin. Faint. Subtle. Like something sleeping just under the surface.My wolf stirred.Not a growl. Not anger.Just… awareness.I swallowed, pulling my hand back to my chest."What are

Cracks in the Wall

Those words followed me into the dark. He's not the same.I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, turning them over like stones in my palm. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face – not the cold mask I'd known for years, but the one he'd shown me today. The one that looked at me like I was something worth figuring out.I didn't sleep.Not really.My wrist rested against my chest. The scar was warm beneath my fingers. Not burning. Just present. Waiting.My wolf stirred.For what?No answer came.A knock broke the silence.I was already sitting up before the second knock landed. I swung my legs off the bed, heart steady. Expectant.When I opened the door, the same warrior stood there. Same neutral face."The Alpha's yard," he said. "Now."I nodded. He left.I dressed quickly. My hands didn't shake. Not because I wasn't nervous – but because I knew what waited for me.The corridors were empty.No whispers. No stares. Just silence stretching long and thin.By the time I reached the trai

The Wraps

I woke before the knock again. This time, I didn't even try to sleep. The room was dim, washed in that gray light just before dawn, when everything felt quieter than it should be. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to my own breathing. Then I lifted my hands. The strips of cloth I'd torn from an old shirt were already stained through – dark patches where blood had seeped in and dried. They were tied badly, uneven, one looser than the other. My fingers flexed inside them, slow and stiff. Pain flared. Sharp. Deep. I exhaled. It didn't feel like something to avoid. It felt like proof. I pushed myself up, resting my elbows on my knees, and unwrapped one hand carefully. The skin underneath was raw, split across the knuckles, still angry and red. I pressed my thumb lightly against one of the cuts. It hurt. I smiled. Just a little. My other hand drifted to my wrist. The scar greeted me before I even touched it – warm, alive in a way it had never been befor

The Whispers Grow

I woke with my hands still wrapped.For a second, I didn't move. Just lay there, staring at the low ceiling, feeling the weight of the cloth around my knuckles. It had shifted a little in my sleep, loosened at the edges, but it was still there – firm, steady, holding everything together.I lifted my hands slowly.White fabric. Faintly stained. Creased where it had been tied with care.My thumb brushed along the edge.I remembered the way his fingers had moved – sure, precise. The brief pause at the end. The pressure of his thumb smoothing the wrap into place.The memory sat in my chest, quiet but heavy.I swallowed and looked away.Carefully, I began unwrapping one hand. The cloth peeled back in slow layers, revealing skin that shouldn't have looked the way it did.The cuts were still there – but not the same. No longer raw. No longer open. They'd closed overnight, thin pink lines replacing what had been split and bleeding just hours ago.I turned my hand slightly, studying it. Flexed

The Hunt Begins

I didn't put the feather down. Even after the room went quiet again. Even after the walls settled and the air stopped feeling like it had been disturbed. I sat on the edge of my bed, the feather resting across my palm, turning it slowly between my fingers. It caught the faint light from the window in a way that didn't make sense – too dark to reflect, too smooth to be natural. The edges were sharp – not enough to cut, but not soft either. It didn't feel like something that had fallen from the sky. It felt placed. Deliberate. I ran my thumb along the spine, frowning. Too large for any bird I'd seen near the pack lands. Too heavy. Too wrong. I lifted it slightly, bringing it closer to my face. Breathed in. At first, there was nothing. Then – something faint. Familiar. My chest tightened. Not just the general scent of the pack that clung to everything. Specific. Close. Someone had held this. Recently. My wolf stirred low in my chest, a quiet sound building at the back of

The Watcher

I didn't go back to sleep.By the time the first light crept through the narrow window, I was already sitting at the small wooden table in the corner of my room. A torn scrap of paper lay in front of me. Charcoal stained my fingers.I stared at the names I'd already written, the letters uneven but clear enough.Mara. Rina. Kael.I paused there for a moment, the tip of the charcoal hovering just above the page. Then I moved lower.Damon.I pressed harder than I meant to, the charcoal digging into the paper as I added a question mark beside his name.Something about him sat wrong in my chest. Not just the scar. Not just the way his eyes had stayed on me a second too long. It was the feeling – like I'd already stepped into something I didn't fully see yet.My wolf stirred, a low, warning rumble curling through my chest.Danger.I exhaled slowly and added two more names beneath his – faces I'd memorized from the corridors. Wolves who whispered too quickly when I passed. Who looked away to

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