Curse Synonym Novels & Stories

I’m so used to everyone in my pack knowing, I almost slipped. “I’m sorry I know it’s frustrating and confusing to you, but don’t let it get you down. Everything will work out. I don’t know what has made you question everything, but I imagine my life in a coven is similar to yours in a wolf pack.” “What do you mean?”

Marco asked If he was really interested in what will happen next. "He chose to kill himself," sister Clarity said. "What if the guy can't die? What if he will never die?" Ken asked with a stern voice. "What do you mean Mr Hendrix?" Sister Clarity's brows crossed. "I mean what if that was cursed of Lucifer to him? What If he was cursed to live forever so that he'll suffer forever, watching the woman he loves die repeatedly." My brows crossed. I heard a pinch of pain in his voice or maybe I was just delusional. Plus his idea made me more confused and curious about the two angel's love stories.

Grayson steps forward, "hmm, he's right. If you don't have a heart, it only means you've cursed yourself-... which mean you have a weakness." I've heard of cursed demons - they're called shadows. But I've never heard of one cursing themselves. Still, there's always a price to pay. What's the saying again, 'when you curse someone, you're just digging your own grave.' Fenrir's paws tap beside me, and my gaze turns to his. His eyes are soft but fierce - a wolfish grin splitting across his face. Charming's right, I forget who I'm with - I'm not alone.

I’m not about to show weakness. His lips curved, not quite a smile, more like a predator amused by its prey. “So the little curse can fight after all.” The words sliced into me. Curse. Always that word. But when he said it, there was no fear. Only challenge. I bared my teeth. “Say that again.”

The walk through the gardens should have calmed me, should have erased my frustration, but it did not. Lanterns twinkled above the hedges and fountains, the air crisp and fragrant with late-summer blooms. My senses tingled with a strange unease. The wolf inside me whispered, small and insistent, trying to guide me, to warn me—but her voice was drowned beneath the roar of the curse, beneath centuries of witches' malice that tangled every instinct. The noise pressed in from every direction, leaving me dizzy, overwhelmed, barely able to parse what was danger and what was desire.

The words from my mouth were cursed. Anything I said came true. When I was eight, a child trafficker broke my right leg. I stared at him and said, "You made me limp, so I'll make you limp too." A second later, steel pipes from an overturned truck went through both his legs. When I was twelve, a staff member at the orphanage stole my winter coat. I said to her, "You stole my warmth, so I'll give you the cold. You won't live past tonight. Ice will be your coffin." That night, she passed out drunk in a walk-in freezer and froze to death. Then the wealthy Shaw family found me and brought me home. However, I knew I was a monster, so I kept my mouth shut and acted like I was mute. But