Bride Of Ignat Chapter 3 Novels & Stories

Almost as fast as the way everyone’s eyes, including Enzo’s beyond shocked ones, had swung my way, questions they would never get answers to swimming in their depths. The urge to tell Yuri to mind his fucking business is so strong, the words sit at the tip of my tongue. Then I remember who’s asking me the question and I sigh, sliding into the backseat of the vehicle. “I wish I did, Yuri,” I confess, dragging a wretched hand down my face. “I wish I fucking knew.” “She is Dmitri’s bride, yes?” Yuri switches to Russian. One might assume it’s for discretion, so no one else is privy to our conversation. It’s not. He’s just used to us communicating in Russian.

Vincent stood frozen, his claws dripping and his eyes blazing gold—while Maria’s lifeless body lay at his feet. On his other hand, he held the journal—it was writing on its own once more. The words glowed in blood-red ink: “Chapter Two Hundred and One: The Bride’s Arrest.” The police lights flashed intensely as guns were raised and voices shouted, “Hands up!”

It was just obvious, the disciples' acting wasn't very good. The bride squinted and looked at their faces. "Really?" "Really!" Esteban nodded hard. The bride laughed again, her voice was really nice: "Then have some appetizers first, my husband isn't back yet. When he gets home, I'll have him make some bone soup for everyone." Bone broth? Whose bone? The disciples of the sect leaned on the table, looked at Amelia, then looked out the window, and finally stared at their new bride, who was tilting her head at them.

"Welcome your Majesty!" The small crowd greeted us but my father wave his hand to let them stay seated. The wolf priest acknowledged our presence and my father had no time to argue as he followed the butler to the seat intended for him, beside Zeina. My sister smiled and kissed him on the cheek to control whatever anger he had from the words that I just said. I stand beside the wolf priest as he reads the book of our Moon Goddess. I looked around me as we waited for the bride to come, my bride to be exact. My patience is tested for a few minutes before Beta Ousof's mind link me. "Your majesty we are getting out of the car now, your bride is heading that way."

"I'm about to become part of the Blackwood family. Of course, I have to understand." Dante smiled, satisfied. He kissed the back of my hand. "I knew you'd understand. Isabella's a good girl, she just wanted to help. I'm sure you'll grow to like her." "I understand," I nodded, my expression docile. He talked more about the wedding plans, but I didn't hear a word. My heart was already dead, as lifeless as it had been during those two days in the basement. At 11:30, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the bedroom door open. The footsteps were light, heavy with the smell of alcohol. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. The mattress dipped, and a warm body pressed against mine.

Chapter 168 ••~••°••~•• Luciano ••~••°••~•• {This scene is the continuation of Chapter 166} My heart pounds with anticipation as I push another door open, leading me to another scenery. I had imagined this moment a thousand different ways. None of them looks like this. Darkness like I have never felt before thrums inside me. They tried to take her away from me. Here I am, watching a wedding.

Didi’s mother, Ruth, scowled from the sidelines, glaring daggers, but Vera didn’t flinch. The press went wild. Cameras clicked, capturing every sharp glance, every small tremor, every forced smile. Vera pulled back, leaving Didi visibly shaken. “An applause for the bride, please,” Vera said sweetly, voice carrying across the room. Claps erupted immediately, polite at first, then swelling as everyone tried to capture the moment. Vera winked at Didi—and at Charles—deliberately, a small spark of mischief in her eyes. Didi’s lips twitched, attempting a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Charles’ knuckles whitened around his side.

She's clumsy with her movements but she pushes the band entirely successfully. When that is done, the priest speaks. “By the authority vested in me by the Church and the State of Italy, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” I face her and she faces me. My mind instantly flashes to the first time this whole game began. I hadn't even let myself enjoy the taste of her tongue against mine, outside the building that day. I lift her veil.

The priest repeats himself, switching my name with hers, and she silently continues to look at me as if she’s trying to read my thoughts. “It’s your turn,” I murmur, holding her gaze, challenging her to walk away. “I, Mia Kincaid, take you, Quenten Yilmaz, for my…” Her voice fades, and I tilt my head, slowly shaking it. Blinking hastily, she clears her throat and begins to rap the words. “For my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. And if you try to consummate this marriage tonight, we will have to hold a private burial for your penis.” She continues to speak, arching her brows with a ‘touch me a

and a note. I stared at the image. Seraphina. Not Alexa. Not the version I was grooming to trust me. She was the version he'd owned first. She was asleep in his bed. His sheets tangled were tangled around her body, her shoulders bare. She was vulnerable in the way only someone who felt safe can be. Vincent had taken this when she was still his. The note read: "Your bride used to moan my name in her sleep. She will return to her place soon enough."