All Chapters of Cursed To Kiss The Ruthless Lycan King : Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

(Gwen’s pov)I'd spent most of the afternoon in my mom's kitchen making Liam's favorite honey cake, and I was in such a good mood that I'd been humming the whole time. It was our two-year anniversary. I carried the plate across the pack grounds like it was something that could break, and when I got to his family's back door I bumped it open with my hip and called out, "Liam, I made your—"I stopped, because he was standing by the window kissing someone, and it wasn't me!It was Darian, who works the eastern patrol and has come to dinner at Liam's house more times than I could count. Liam had one hand on the side of his face, and the way he kissed him was something I'd never once gotten from him, like…he wasn't holding anything back.The plate hit the floor. Cake and pieces of china went everywhere, and they jumped apart."Gwen," Liam said. He had gone completely pale. "Gwen, wait.""Wait for what?" I said. My voice erupted, thin and far away. "For you to finish?""It's not what it

(Gwen’s pov)The decree went up on the village notice board two days after we left Morwen's house, and by noon every wolf in the pack had read it.I heard about it from my father, who came through the front door so fast that he forgot to take off his boots, something my mother would normally have scolded him for. He held the parchment in both hands as if it were made of gold."The king is choosing a wife," he said."What?" My mother put down her spoon. "Since when?""Since this morning, darling. Every daughter who has come of age is invited to the capital for the selection." He spread the page across the table and tapped the wax seal at the bottom. "Every one of them, darling, whatever her rank."I looked down at the black mark on the back of my hand, hidden under a lace glove my mother had made me wear, and my stomach turned over. "Papa, no.""Listen to me, Gwen." He crouched in front of my chair, which he hadn't done since I was small. "You have two years. The king hasn't looked at

(Gwen’s POV)The warrior woman didn't say a word until the iron door had closed and the courtyard had emptied of everyone who hadn't been picked. Those girls left in silence, some of them in tears, and I tried not to look at the one who'd stepped out of line before me. She walked past with her chin high and her eyes wet, and I felt a small, ugly twist of guilt."Ten of you," the warrior woman said at last, looking us over like a general counting soldiers. "Follow me, and keep your voices down. You will rest properly tonight, because tomorrow will not be kind."We followed her through the palace in a nervous line. The corridors were so tall that our footsteps echoed up into the dark.I kept my gloved hand pressed to my skirt and my eyes on the floor, partly because the girl with the gold in her hair walked three places ahead of me and I didn't want her turning around."Rooms are shared," the woman said over her shoulder. "Two to a room. You will not fight, you will not argue, and you

(Gwen’s POV)I caught up with Rhea at the foot of the palace steps, tugging my sleeves back up. "Rhea, may I speak with you for a moment?"She didn't stop walking. "You may speak while we walk.""Could I change my clothes? This tunic is far too big, and I think there's been a mistake." I held out my arms so she could see the sleeves hanging past my fingers. "If I could just get a smaller size, I promise I'll be quick.""No.""No?""There are no smaller clothes left." She finally glanced down at me, I thought I saw sympathy in her eyes before it was swallowed up by that flat, professional calm. "The seamstress prepared ten uniforms by the king's measurements for the girls he was expected to choose. Yours was the last one cut, and the last one left.""But I can't hunt in this. I'll trip.""Then you will trip carefully." She turned and started walking again. "After the hunt, I will see what can be done about your clothes. Until then, you will make do."I stared at her back, my chest tigh

(Xaden's POV)I expected a bow or perhaps tears from the girl. I did not expect her to let out a breathless sound halfway between a laugh and a sob and run straight at me.She crashed into my chest with both arms flung around my ribs, dirt and dried blood and all, and the whole hall went silent. Two guards took a step forward. I lifted one finger, and they stopped. "I'm alive," she said into my coat, in a trembling voice that was clearly meant for no one but herself. "It wasn't tiger. It was deer, and I'm alive."She smelled of sweat, crushed apples and wet forest earth. Her braid had come half undone and was scratching my chin, and in her excitement her right hand slid down my forearm and closed over the back of my hand.I stopped.I felt a chill, a sudden cold that rolled up my arm and across my shoulders, like the first rush of blood into a limb that had been numb for years. I felt her fingers. Small, warm, trembling, rough with the blisters a bowstring leaves. I felt the pulse i