Corpse Bride Matching Pfp Novels & Stories

Her marshmallow scent smells rotten. “Disgusting. Just tell her to take her clothes off.” Ghost says. All our conversations about being respectful to our mate go out the window at that moment. “Bro, knock it off.” I chastise him. I look closer at her clothes. A red cropped sweatshirt with the Blood River logo on the sleeve. She cut the neck to help it fit looser. The exposed strap of her bra is black like the leggings and her red trainers match her shirt perfectly. Focus, Milo.

"Three months. I'm betting this marriage doesn't last more than three months." "Knowing what Cassiano is like, I wouldn't be surprised if he snaps one day and hits Cecilia." … On the day of the party, I walked into the hall with my arm linked through Cassiano's. He was wearing the custom black suit I had made for him, his hair slicked back to show off his chiseled face. The way he moved was completely different from everyone else—every step was firm, and he kept his weight low. He was like a predator prowling through unfamiliar territory.

They shared the same cheekbones, mouth, and eyes—only hers were hollowed out by ash and grief. The First Bride smiled at her as she spoke. “So beautiful. You possess the same fire I once had. The council made a wise choice.” Camela stumbled backward. “Stay away from me!” she yelled. The corrupted bride tilted her head slightly as her veil slid over her ruined cheek. Her voice was sweet but low—dangerously soft. “Why should I? We are not so different. You can feel it, can’t you? My thorns binding your wrists, my voice coursing through your veins.”

I dug my nails into my palm, forcing myself to maintain a calm, professional expression. "Ms. Greenfield, do you have any other requests for the wedding?" Anna tilted her head, thought for a moment, then suddenly spoke up. "Oh, right. The entire floor has to be covered with imported cashmere carpets. My wedding dress is pure silk. My boyfriend bought it for me. It can't snag even a little. Money doesn't matter. My boyfriend has plenty of it." I almost laughed when I heard that. Victor. The poor student I had personally lifted up. The boy who once couldn't even scrape together five dollars, now a billionaire CEO. What took others twenty years to achieve, I helped him accomplish in just three.

I unroll it with shaking fingers. The headline is in letters an inch tall: GENERAL WYNNE APPOINTED PRIME MINISTER LADY SERAPHINE BETROTHED TO CROWN PRINCE AURENFALL SAVED BY NOBLE SACRIFICE OF YOUNGEST DAUGHTER There is a portrait: Father in ministerial robes, Seraphine on Edric’s arm, both of them glowing with triumph. Below it, a smaller sketch: me in chains, head bowed, captioned The Willing Bride.

Like temptation itself had chosen her body to rest in. What the fuck is she wearing? This isn’t a club. This is a gathering of alphas. Council members. Elders. And she came in dressed like a damn... horseman of chaos. Every single eye was on her. Every alpha with a mate was sneaking glances. The unmated ones were practically salivating. She walked straight ahead like she didn’t see the destruction she left in her wake. She didn’t care. And that pissed me off. This girl is going to be the end of me.

The pain in her growl was evident, and I’m sure it reflected in my eyes. Alexander’s expression had softened as if he could sense it himself. “But Vivien will not be there,” he tells me before turning his head to the rest of them. “My bride will be Joanne. Because she…. Is my true mate.”

Vida looked at her and she had to admit that Anna would make a great shopping companion, as every time she had seen her, she was dressed so beautifully. "How on earth are you and Axel so similar? I thought opposites attract? Why then are you two so similar?" Vida had never believed that anyone would say she was similar to Axel; she would have sworn that they were worlds apart. "How?" she choked out, wanting to hear the reason from her. "You both have no casual clothes," Anna said simply. "Do you want to be dressed so seriously during your honeymoon?" "Well, it's the way I am always dressed, so I do not see why not."

“One of my brothers is to marry a widow, she can not provide a bloody sheet. It would not be fair if the emissary had to watch them and not us.” “I...I suppose not.” Padraig smiled as he let go of her chin and bent over her to sign his name. HIS name. Eliana noticed. Griogair and Alasdair were written slightly smaller than Padraig, the name he chose to be called most of the time. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning. “My other brother is wed to a lass far to the east whom we have never met. They too will have to couple for the emissary and they are yet strangers to one another. You are lucky to know me, are you not?”

She imagined Cassidy as a brunette – there was no particular reason, other than the fact that Aster and Katelynn both had dark hair, and she just figured that was what Declan liked. A far uglier emotion started to rear its head. Aster imagined herself walking up to Cassidy, a big smile on her face, asking the human girl, “Who gave you permission to touch my husband?” But before the she could answer, Aster grabbed her head, twisted and ripped it off, the human’s blood pumping from her neck like a geyser.