Elysian Bride Novels & Stories

Delilah yelled continuously. “Remember you own me your life Olivia! You are supposed to do as I command you!”. “I would gladly do anything else for you but not harm crystal!”. Olivia thunder back with determination in her voice. “How dare you defy my order you with!?”. Delilah yelled, grabbing Olivia neck. “And what do you think you’re doing? Let her go right now!”. Liam said coldly. He has been sitting there quietly watching as the two woman yelled at each other. “Hurting crystal was never part of the plan Delilah! How dare you even think of hurting my mate!”. Liam thundered, using his alpha’s tone as his eyes turned gold.

I’ve been longing for her warm, kissable lips that I feasted on this same night a year ago. My hands explored her body, her temple. I seem to memorize her every curve and every inch of her skin, despite only watching her often from afar—even if I only fucked her for a night in Maine under the same Snow Moon. She was submissive, letting me take hold of her at this moment. Elaine Winona Rutherford, the eighteen-year-old mortal who I chose to be my bride, is indeed the gift of the Trinity Goddess to me as we drowned further into this sensual irresistible kiss.

I get though, none of this probably makes sense to him, carefully he nudges Hela’s side, “Miss Lyon?” “Oh, yeah, sorry,” Hela mutters apologetically, then looks me directly in the eyes. I swear it is starting to annoy me that they don’t acknowledge her as an Alpha. I squeezed her hands as she took in a deep breath and cleared her throat, “I, Hela Lyon, take you, Eros Rain Vasillos, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and hold, to be with all the days of my life, for better or worse, sad or happy days, good health or poor, until death divides us apart.”

"Why are you here? Why now?" Lysandra, her voice echoing the same haunting melody, replied, "I'm here because of the storm, because of the impending power shift. And because of you, sister." Darius, his brow furrowed in confusion, turned to Elara. "You know her?" Elara hesitated, taking a deep breath before answering. "Lysandra is my twin sister. We were separated during the Great War. I thought she was lost to me forever." The Siren, her gaze piercing, fixed her eyes on Darius. "And you, young warrior, are caught up in a destiny you can't even fathom."

But before I could say anything, Caspian stepped between us. "Elysia," he said quietly. "Leave." "Elysia?" I repeated. "As in... Elysia Vane? Your arranged bride?" Elysia's green eyes finally focused on me properly. She smiled, and it was like watching a knife being drawn. "Oh, he told you about that? How sweet. Yes, I'm his fiancée. The woman he's actually supposed to marry, not the little blood servant he's using for spare parts." My face burned. I stood up, ignoring how my legs still shook. "At least I'm here because I have something to offer. What's your excuse? Being born with the right last name?"

Replied Fuschia indifferently. “Ah, that's not it. It’s just, most of the other nobles will grimace and ignore me when they find out who I am.” Fuschia confused. She tilted her head. On the other hand, Elysian smiled, but his smile seemed to be hidden a scar. “I am the illegitimate child of the Marquise Bellrose. My biological mother is a commoner.” Said Elysian, bowing his head. “So?” Fuschia getting confused, “Does he want me to sympathize with him, or what?”

On it: a shallow basin, empty now, stained dark with centuries of spilled blood. Seraphine appeared beside the basin, fading, translucent. “Speak the vow,” she said. “Blood of the bridge. Tear of the betrayed. Kiss of life. Seal it here, where it began.” Elara drew the fang again, held it high. “I, Elara Thorne-Blackthorn, bridge of the split packs, bleed willingly,” she said, voice ringing off the walls. She sliced deeper, blood flowing freely now, letting it drip into the basin. Silver droplets hissed on contact, steam rising like spirits released.

"Hardened Lycan Alphas collapse into whimpering dogs when exposed to that corrupted iron. Yet, you shattered it with a wave of your hands. My men are calling it a miracle. The lower ranks are calling it witchcraft." "And what do you call it, Silas?" Elara asked, her violet eyes meeting his golden ones without flinching. She pulled the fur blanket up slightly, refusing to look weak in front of him, even if her body felt like glass. "I am the bride you bought to secure your borders. Are you regretting the price you paid?" A dark, dangerous smirk carved its way onto the unscarred side of Silas’s face. He leaned down slightly, bringing his face close enough that she could smell the crisp scent o

Beneath the illustration was a line of ancient text, which he translated in a trembling voice: "The blood of the First Bride shall open the Final Gate." I froze. The first bride... Rose. "Rose, aren't you—" But Lucien shook his head slowly, shutting down my theory. "No." Every eye in the room—including Rose’s—snapped to him. "Not Rose," Lucien said firmly. I frowned, completely bewildered. "Then who? History says Rose was the bride who was sacrificed!" Lucien smiled thinly, his gaze practically stripping my soul bare. "You are the real First Bride."