Novelas y relatos de The Captive Bride

I was not a perverted sick bastard. Today was the seventh day I was here. Demian had not been home since the night we talked about his brother. He came back just a while ago. He waited for me as I got ready and we two made our way to the dining hall. “You look pretty,” he whispered. “I don’t like the choker,” I said. “Brides who are brought here out of their free will need to wear it until they become a true Silverclaw,” Demian explained. “Not just brides. Grooms too.”

Especially him. Damian Blackwood. The man I am supposed to marry. A billionaire whose name made tycoons tremble. Cold, ruthless, untouchable. I had seen the way he looked at me during our brief engagement meetings—like I was just another piece of asset, another acquisition. And I refuse to be bought. The curtains lifted. Applause rolled through the crowd. One by one, we glided onto the stage, gowns shimmering under the lights. Each of us masked, each mysterious, each promised to the highest bidder for the sake of “charity.” My turn came all too soon. My heels clicking like gunshots against the polished floor.

CHELLEY MORETTI It’s been a week since Cassian brought me back from the beach house where he held me captive, and since the bargain that changed everything. I’d not expected that I’d be married to my captor whom I hated with every bone of my being, it is the last thing I had expected, The wedding happened and it was the grandest wedding I have ever seen… so extravagant it made the chandeliers look as though they dripped gold and the very walls glistened with pride.

"In your dreams!" Vincent stared at her, then suddenly smiled, a look that sent a chill down her spine. He let her go and turned to Marco. "Contact the global media. Now." Marco froze. "Boss, you mean—" "A livestream," Vincent said, enunciating each word. "Of my wedding to Sophia." Ten minutes later, cameras were aimed at the bedroom's French doors. Vincent had changed into a black suit. Sophia was forced into a wedding dress, a silk ribbon hiding the wound on her wrist.

he says. “It doesn't matter. You would have come ten years later, and it would still be this way, Dante. My heart, it’s solely yours.” He smiles and leans in again, and our lips press together, moving as one. Once, I was the bride he bought , a woman trapped in a bargain made out of power and pride, just so we could save our parents. Now, I’m the woman he chose. And this time, it isn’t a transaction, neither is it because of anyone else.

I choked out, my vision starting to blur. “Don’t play me for a fool! You were the one who claimed responsibility for her death first! Now you try to shift the blame onto him just because you want him dead? I don’t care what twisted relationship you had with that rat, but do not dare lie to me. I am not an idiot!” “If you want me to believe Kean killed my bride… then let me remind you of your reality,” he hissed, his grip tightening just enough to make me burn. “You are my captive. You are the one marked as my bride’s killer. Your life, your fate, every breath you take… it all belongs to me. Only I decide what happens to you.”

When he finally came, it was with a deep, guttural roar — flooding my pussy with thick, hot cum while I trembled through my final orgasm. We collapsed together, sweaty, cum-covered, and breathing hard. Lorenzo pulled me against his chest and kissed my forehead almost gently. “You shot a man for me tonight,” he murmured. “The war is going to get ugly now.” I traced a fresh scar on his chest with my finger. “Let it,” I whispered. “I’m not afraid anymore. Not with you.” He smiled — dark, possessive, and almost proud. “Good. Because from tonight on, you’re not just my captive. You’re my war bride. And I’m going to fuck you like one every single night.”

She didn't apologize to Raina or even look her in the eye. Raina just looked away and she wasn't surprised at all. She was a Valente in the Retroferd estate. She was already considered an enemy and she didn't need a maid to like her. Ma'am Collete reached into her pocket and pulled out a bunch of keys. She handed them to Pascal. "The Don has given his orders," she said, her voice turning cold again. "The bride is not to stay in the main house…She will stay in the room at the back of his villa."

I just didn't think to trace the hospital number. "What did she say to her mother, you ask the woman?" I asked, "She wants to go home and will ask the American embassy for help." I thought so. She's the type of woman who is difficult to control but this is interesting. I really intend to make her fall in love with me over and over again. "So?" "The woman threw her out and didn't want anything to do with the mafia," I took a deep breath. They misunderstand something. The captive is the most special person. The woman should have let Arabella feel comfortable with her until she waited for me to come to pick her up. Stupid!

He simply stared up at his captive bride with a dark, unyielding obsession that promised one undeniable truth: She had survived the night, but the beast was only getting started.