Cursed Knuckles Novels & Stories

"So, now that I've released you, why then are you here?" "Because I'm stuck with you." "Stuck... with me?" She pointed to herself as her eyes widened a bit. He nodded again, "More like we're both cursed to be stuck together." He explained plainly. "Cu- Cursed?!" Her eyes were wide as saucers now. "Yes, cursed." He kept on answering her calmly. "But... but how?" How is she cursed with this... demon man?

Then the doctor ran in as we stepped back and Xavier growled as he was male, unmated and unmarked as far as we could tell. "I came as quickly as I could, alpha, what's going on?" he asks, looking at the unconscious girl in front of me. A gasp of fear and shock escapes him and he backs away. "You have to kick her out!! I cannot treat her! She's the Cursed Rogue!! She matches the description perfectly! Alpha, she cannot-" I snapped. "SILENCE!" Xavier roared. It was rare for our wolves to actually speak on their own like that without their human counterpart, but in this instance, I was right along with him. The doctor instantly closed his mouth and bowed his head in submission.

The violet thread around our wrists still shimmered — stronger, brighter, like a living thing. Then it flickered. Not red. Not black. It pulsed once — sharp, angry — and the color bled to a dull, bruised grey. The same grey that had crept into her skin when the curse first flared. The weight of the leather cylinder sat on the stone crate like a ticking bomb.

he added, “However, if the caster is dead and the effects show up after a month has passed but the affected one isn’t treated on time within a span of 24 hours, the afflicted individual will have power imbalance, extreme pain at being touched, blindness, dumbness, deafness, difficulty in breathing, paralysis, extreme weight loss, appetite loss and finally die in a cruel and pitiable manner. This curse is called ‘Hades’ Kiss',”

He cracked his knuckles and lunged at me. I was expecting it, I know, but when he lunged at me with that super Vampire speed of his, I cringed. Still, it was kill or be killed so I threw up my fist and opened my hand with the crucifix hidden in my palm. He took my hand to be little more than a child trying to stop a speeding train as he continued to move forward. But when his chest made contact with my palm, he stopped cold as if he had run into the side of a concrete building! There was a cracking and a bright streak of fire.

Years ago, a witch cast a prophecy over me. She said I was the cursed wolf, an abomination who would bring the pack to ruin. My parents believed it completely. Locked me in the cellar that same night and left me to starve. My older sister, Sia, fought like hell to keep me alive. When the pack came for me, she stood in front of every single one of them, crying as she tried to shield me. "She's not an abomination. She's never hurt anyone." Because of those words, when the Alpha fell for her but still feared me, that so-called abomination, I volunteered for exile. Walked away from the pack forever. Before I left, I gave Sia a charm. Told her, if anyone ever laid a hand on her, just speak into i

She felt it was her responsibility, but she also knew she couldn't fight them alone, but she needed help from others, she thought. She used her curse which was "cursed speech". She was able to make something happen with just a word. If she was to say die to anyone they would die instantly, but that depends on how strong the soul of the person was. She used her cursed speech to curse three swords, that can be used to kill anyone that was cursed, with a stab in the chest. She wanted to do more but she couldn't, the cursed energy was too heavy for her mortal body to behold. The three she did take a toll on her body and she lost her voice. She wasn't able to speak or talk again since that day.

My claws had extended then my fingers become weapons that tore through him before I realized what I was doing, before my rational mind could wrestle control back from the monster. His cry split the corridor like breaking glass, a sound of pure shock and agony that cut through the air and embedded itself in my memory. The sound was cut short, brutally truncated as my claws that I could not sheath, could not retract, could not control, pierced too deep, finding the spaces between his ribs with predatory accuracy. His armor, crafted by the finest smiths in the realm, offered no protection against the supernatural sharpness of what the curse had made my hands become.

Something like amusement crossed his gaze. His lips moved slightly, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. “F++k…” he cursed under his breath, his deep voice echoing through the tension in the air. He roughly removed his wet black gloves, dropping the gun onto his thigh and exposing a tattoo of a skull and guns on his left hand, while on his right, a casket and skeleton were inked across his knuckles. Alarm bells exploded inside my head. My lungs suddenly stopped functioning well; my stomach tightened as I acted on instinct, reaching for the door and forcefully twisting the lock.

His hand shook, tendons straining, and for one terrifying moment I thought his skin might split. The air thickened. Shadows rippled under his flesh, twisting, writhing. I saw the shape of claws pressing against his skin from the inside, a beast clawing to be free. His eyes burned too bright, gold laced with something darker, almost inhuman. My breath caught. “You’re cursed.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, but they hung heavy in the room. He straightened, forcing himself upright though his body trembled with the effort. “You know nothing.”