Sacrificial Bride To The Feared Lord Hastings นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Four glasses of champagne over two hours. She had not read carefully enough. The marriage certificate was real. She had held it next to her own copy. Both said the same thing. Both had her name, Octavia Maddox, and both had his name too, which she had not thought to look for when she was signing because she had been looking for what she expected and not what she hadn't thought to look for. Bastien Leclair. The name meant something in Tripicity. She had filed it when Priya said it in the dressing room and she was pulling it back now with the specific attention of someone who had just discovered it was considerably more relevant than the section she had filed it under.

As Lily followed Don Grander and Emily to the wedding venue, she knew that her life was about to be turned upside down. “You cannot fuck this up, or you and your brother are dead meat,” Don Grander gave Lily one last doze of threat. As Don Grander held Lily’s hand and walked her down the aisle towards her groom, Lily did not expect to see a dashing well-built groom for a husband. Christopher Bridger was the most handsome man that she had ever seen. But as Don Grander delivered Lily to him at the altar, there was a coldness and ruthlessness in his eyes, so much so that Lily felt instantly that she had just gone from frying pan to fire.

A crack in the wall of hatred pressing against me. Nolan finally spoke then, his tone calm but sharp as a blade. “Aliyana Hastings is the bride of Fangred. That is the end of it. You don’t expect your Alpha to fill you in on all the details.” His words landed like an iron chain. Not tender, not protective. A declaration, a command, as if daring anyone to challenge him. But no one cheered. No one bowed their heads in joy. The silence lingered, thick with disbelief. Bride.

In the flurry of celebrating two sets of new marital bonds, no one noticed a hooded stranger arriving uninvited at the wedding feast until she stood abruptly to interrupt Viktor's toast. "Pardon the intrusion upon such festive occasion." The mysterious woman's biting voice belied any courtesies as she threw back her hood to reveal none other than Anastasia - aged but still glaring haughtily. "I suppose certain prodigal figures assume bygones dismissed in conveniently pairing our offspring. But do not fancy I personally endorse this farce of a truce!" Eyes fiery, she raised a defiant toast of her own.

Jotham, Silveran Capital. 2030 Hazel straightened her spine, her head held high even as she was prodded and pricked at the course of being dolled up for the Crown Prince Bride Choosing Ceremony. She clenched her jaw, trying not to show how upset she was.

Smiling in satisfaction, he slightly lifted the front end of her long dress, so she wouldn't trip, and helped her to the spiraling staircase. Instantly, the curious gazes of the guests fell on their figures. When they saw the Demon Lord's actions of holding his new bride's dress, gasps of astonishment and disbelief swept through the hall. "Oh, my goddess! I think I've had too much drink. Why am I seeing the Demon Lord holding his new wife's dress?" "Fuck! So I'm not the only one?" "A man of his caliber is lowering himself to serve a nameless, purchased woman. Am I still in the same world?"

"How did you end up like this? Weren't you tough when you took Naomi Horner away?" She contemptuously glanced at Alex, her tone filled with a sense of superiority. Dad, sitting in the driver's seat, did not even bother getting out of the car. He only snorted coldly. "I told you, some people just can't be helped. That unfilial daughter was blind to give up her comfortable life as a wealthy heiress to suffer with someone like you." I floated in mid-air, looking at their condescending attitude, and felt a chill run through me. They thought I was hiding out of shame, but they had no idea that I was already dead. I died on the day they thought I eloped.

Ashton’s voice boomed, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife. My heart sank. I have never seen Ashton so furious. “Your Majesty, it’s not what it looks like.” I replied, trying to explain, but the words caught in my throat Damion intervened, “Nothing is happening, dear cousin. I am just being a knight in shining armor, you might say; your bride is such a fragile little thing.” Ashton stormed over, his jaw clenched. “Get your hands off her, Damion!” he growled, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of his grasp.

He was beside her in an instant. “Did I hurt you, Lia? Are you injured?” “Nay, husband.” She peeked out at him from the edge of the counterpane, “I used a trick my mother told me before she died.” “What trick is that?” “She told me that English men like a woman to bleed on the wedding night, but many lasses don’t, even if they have not been with a man. She told me that lasses put a leach in their channel for a bit a day or two before the wedding to make a weak spot so coupling will shed some blood. I had thought that all the emissary would need was a bloody sheet and mother's trick would provide that for us.”

The Southlands priest once prophesied that the Duke of Winslet's house would produce a Saintess who could command every beast alive. I'd hidden the golden serpent mark on my wrist since childhood, but my cousin, Rose Winslet, flaunted a poisonous snake coiled around hers every day. When the marriage decree came, she got exactly what she wanted: the Crown Prince. I was given to the Seventh Prince instead, a man with two ruined legs whom the entire court despised. For six years after that, I trained hawks to carry messages and drove wolves through enemy lines, and it was my hands that put him on the throne. The day he was crowned, I told him, overjoyed, that I was the true beast-commandin