Corpse Husband Rings Novels & Stories

We made an oath on the altar of paper money before I unlocked the dowry chest, signifying that we embraced our new roles as husband and wife. Specifically, the breasts. Similar to a jewelry box. Molten gold plating, decorated with blue gems. The symbol of the Seventh House was displayed on the lock plate. The box was the first thing I explored. Something metallic with two rings fastened around it was visible to me. Locked. "You will need that," he boomed as he picked up the necklace and turned me around so that he could have me wear it. By that point, I had stopped talking altogether. My slow and painful death march began with this wedding. Not that anyone should have been happy about it any

My husband, Gideon Huber, always thought of himself as a saint. He capitalized on my sacrifices to enhance his own reputation. In my previous life, I was beaten to death by a homeless man he had sponsored, and the baby I was carrying died as well. Gideon had rushed to the scene, wailing in grief, but his words were laced with bitter irony. "Why did you resist? If you had just complied, you wouldn't have died. Now that you're dead, what will people think of me?"

After what seems like forever, his hand lashes out, and he grabs my forearm, holding it up between us. I stare at him with wide eyes. Partially because his touch is electric, and knowing what he is about to do. As he attempts to slide the ring down my finger, I attempt to yank my arm backwards and fail. My husband’s eyes harden with a dark intensity blazing through them as he forces my hand to remain still, sliding the ring down my finger until it snugly sits above my knuckle. Inhaling sharply through my nostrils, I thrust my chin forward, silently fighting my soul as it tries to claw its way out of my core. “This ring is never to leave your finger.” My husband states firmly as he lowers our

Gray said to him. *** THREE DAYS, before Jonas was found dead, he confessed a secret to Baron. “I found it inside my wife's cabinet.” At one point, he showed him a ring. The ring it refers to is the one that Baron sent to Rohan's house. "D and J?” the young man said in astonishment when he noticed that there were engraved initials on the side of the ring. “That's why i confirmed my wife was having an affair with another man.” Jonas nodded to his friend and held back the tears from his eyes.

She sprawled her legs beneath her, looking up at him through a thick fringe of lashes with a predatory, seductive gaze. “I want another round,” Holly purred, her voice a low, gravelly promise. “I… I need to talk to my wife…” Damon managed to whisper. He looked pathetically hot. The first three buttons of his dress shirt were ripped open, his tie hanging loosely around his neck like a noose. But it was his right hand that caught my attention. There, his gold wedding ring glistened, coated slick and hot with the combined juices of Holly and me. He still has it on, I thought, a sharp pang of betrayal slicing through the pleasure.

But then I get a flat tire in the pouring rain and a sexy-as-hell gentleman helps me out. My husband is in the game, so one look at the skull ring on this gentleman's left hand tells me exactly who he is. The Skull King. I didn't want an open marriage...but I definitely want this man.

"Oh?" Ms. Johnson's expression shifted, the amusement fading from her voice as she coldly asked, "How so?" "You wear your camellia ring on your pinky, avoiding all fingers associated with love," Renee explained. "Ten years ago, your newlywed husband died in a car accident. There was actually another person at the scene—his lover, a woman who loved camellias. She died clutching a camellia your husband had given her. Even this Hillside Estates was a gift from your husband to her, bought with your money. Now it's your trophy."

Or maybe I hadn’t wanted to see the secret he was hiding in plain sight. Now, he wasn't wearing them. His hands were bare, pale and elegant. He slid several rings onto his fingers slowly, deliberately, as if showing me the pieces of a puzzle. Two of them made my chest ache with a sudden, sharp pang of recognition. One was a simple, heavy gold band which was clearly his wedding ring. His wife had died eighteen years ago. He never remarried, never even looked at another woman. The other ring was tacky and rusted, a cheap piece of costume jewelry that was clearly too small, leaving faint green oxidation marks against his skin. It looked like trash compared to the gold.

I'll head back once I wrap things up here. On my way out, I slipped off the ring I had worn since the wedding and dropped it into a trash can by the door. I didn't need something that belonged to more than one person. Not a ring. Not a man. When I got home, I packed up everything Miles and I had bought together and threw it out. By the time I finished, half the apartment was empty. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could breathe. The next evening, when I got back from work, Miles was standing outside the door. He was wearing a gray shirt I had never seen before. A faint, sweet scent lingered on him.

I inhaled deeply, my mind reeling back to the scene I had witnessed. My funeral. Cold. Unreal. No love.. It was a press conference. A campaigne disguised as a funeral. I recalled the way my husband had walked in with Sia accompanying him. The way they walked too closely. Tears slid down my cheeks, my hands gripping my chest as I tried to stabilise my breathing. I had always seen them. I have seen his gaze linger on her while we talked business. The way he tensed up when her orchid scented perfume filled the air.