Curse Of Curves Novels & Stories

Tens of thousands years ago, one discover something that shock the realities of the world... It lead the nation to a great change; affects throughout the world, the change brought a new beginning. The beginning of the curse... "This has to stop," a voice of a woman says, gentle rubbing the crystalize ball that twinkling about. She was place in the dark, only her voice reach the every corner of the room. "Tell me," a voice of man response, his voice gentle. Setting across the high-level throne that shone with bizzare gold, his lips parted as his eyes shone with strange light. "What it is you wish to conquer?"

"Curiosity?" "I don't trust you!" I snapped at Lucille, clutching the parchment tighter. "I’m not drinking some random crap unless you tell me exactly what it does." "I wouldn't drink crap either," she replied dryly. "I can tell you." She leaned over the list, pointing to each ingredient with a gnarled finger as she explained. "Tough-root makes the curse less potent." "Curse?" I interrupted. She just looked at me, offered a cryptic little smile, and kept going.

It was unusual for Ethan to be so expressive, even to laugh so loudly. "Well you don't know William, Leona. William Redorge. A very famous action film actor and-" "Yeah I know that. He's a famous actor, and?" "Come on, Ethan! Let's go quickly!" interrupted William. Ethan cleared his throat. After that he rose from his position. "Okay, Miss Russell, looks like I have to go now, before the ferocious wolf attacks me," said Ethan. William glared at his cousin and assistant. Ethan could always call him a 'wolf' in front of Leona. What if the girl gets suspicious?

And that’s dangerous. I turn toward the main road, my feet heading in a familiar direction on their own. Too many thoughts race through my mind, a tumult of chaos. I can feel the weight of the curse pressing against my shoulders. The peace treaty, the princess, the Mate Bond—each element threatens to unravel the very fabric of my pack’s existence. I want to say that’s the only reason why I’d wanted to rip that kid’s head off. But it isn’t. I am truly screwed. In every damn way.

she murmurs, tracing a finger along the edge of my desk as she moves closer. She stops when our legs touch and leans back against the desk. I swirl the last of my drink and look up at her through my lashes. She smiles and slowly drags her smooth leg against mine. I swallow the whiskey and slide the glass away. Enough. I grip her hip, lift her off the desk, and turn her to face it, bending her over in one motion. I push her skirt up—it’s so tight it snags, and I tear the seam without caring. She gasps.

"Get me the girl, or the next time the curse takes hold, I won't be there to help you hold it back. You’ll burn with the rest of them." The connection snapped shut, leaving me standing in the dark. I let out a roar of frustration and swept my arm across the dresser, sending glass vials and heavy wooden bowls flying across the room. They shattered against the stone walls, but the noise didn't make me feel any better. I kicked a chair, watching it splinter, and cursed Liam’s name under my breath. He was so blinded by his own "morals" that he couldn't see we were all heading for a cliff. I needed that curse lifted, and I wasn't going to let his sudden conscience ruin my life.

I carried the journals to a clear spot and sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, my phone's flashlight providing light for me as I started going through the pages one after the other. The first two journals were filled with basic healing procedures, but it was the third journal, when I started seeing things I was looking for. A page was titled On the Nature of Curses, and Ways To Break Them. I flipped through pages of diagrams and notes, descriptions of different curse types and their signatures. Blood curses. Bone curses. Soul curses. Each one more dangerous than the last. I was deep into a reading about blood curses when my phone rang unexpectedly. I took a look at the caller ID ready to

I said. "The mate bond," he said. "The fated mate. For a wolf that is not an abstract concept — it is the thing the wolf nature orients toward, the specific person it was made to find. Taking that away, or making it dangerous, is the most precise way to hurt a wolf." He held my gaze. "The curse made intimacy a death sentence. Sleep with someone once — nothing happens. Sleep with them a second time — the curse activates. And the person does not survive it." I held that.

He stumbles back, gaping at me. "What are you doing?" I snap. "I'm sorry. I'm out of my mind." He turns away, digging his hands into his hair. "You are," I gasp back, unable to reign back my surprise. "Don't forget, Carran, the curse still runs rampant. You failed your end of the deal, and the fact that you think it's okay to come in here and declare attraction for me is insane." "We are resolving the curse issue," he assures me, although him and I both know he is lying. "We will figure it out shortly, but trust me, Sire being back would cause more problems then it would fix."

The world outside looked like a cottage core dream. Selena turned around and grimaced. The shrine—her cursed assignment—was still gloomier than a tax office, with thunderclouds coiling ominously above it like it had committed several felonies. And the worst part? The storm was exclusive. It hovered only above the shrine, like nature itself had obvious favoritism.