Underworld Bride Trials Novels & Stories

" The werewolves listened intently, their eyes gleaming with a newfound glimmer of hope. Marcus had succeeded in planting the seeds of possibility within their minds. Now, it was time to outline the challenges that awaited Lucia, the tests she would have to overcome. "The first trial will be one of physical endurance," Marcus declared. "Lucia will embark on a journey through the treacherous mountains, where she will face harsh weather, steep cliffs, and formidable beasts. She must prove her resilience, her ability to adapt and survive in the most challenging of circumstances."

"In light of your journey and the wisdom you have brought back to our pack, we now face the ultimate test of your bond. Tonight, you will undergo the Trial of the Heart." A hush fell over the crowd as whispers of curiosity and concern danced in the air. The Trial of the Heart was a sacred and ancient ritual, a rite of passage that challenged the very core of a werewolf's being. It tested the depth of love, trust, and sacrifice within a bonded trio.

The Prince of Hell’s smirk deepens when he sees my bared teeth, but he quickly turns his head back to his father as the God of Death begins to speak again. “Let me begin,” the God of Death says, folding his hands neatly behind his back, “by letting you know that the first trial has already begun.” He waves a hand, encompassing all of us. “In twenty weeks my son will choose one of you to be his eternal bride – a position of great honor that comes with the title of Princess of the Underworld. When my son succeeds me as King of this great land, you will be his Queen.”

Astrid caught Irene’s gaze and followed it to Stefan, her fists clenching under the table. “Then it’s settled,” the patriarch said, raising his glass. ***** On the wedding day, Irene sat quietly as makeup artists and stylists surrounded her. The white wedding gown shimmered like moonlight. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, and sparkling accessories adorned her ears and wrist. The makeup artist adjusted her veil. “Your mother must be so proud of you.” Those words broke something inside her. She thought back to the conversation with her mom when she was little. Her mother had described the perfect wedding—how her daughter would wear white, walk down the aisle with her head held high, and marry

Under the light of the moon but away from the eyes of other Pack members. And as the wedding day approached, soon the new Luna would ascend to her title and stand trial with the Elders. A formality of cultural tradition, it would consist of interviews to test her knowledge and aptitude and see how well she does under pressure. There would be a physical challenge, exhibiting her wolf and control of the power she wields as Luna. “She’d better pass,” the wedding planner, Jade, said to her partner. “I can’t handle all this work and then no wedding, not like last time.”

Her gaze fell to Briar’s hand. There was a stake lying there. It was golden and glowing faintly. She didn’t touch it. She only let her eyes linger on the stake. “The Luna Trials are complete, and she has passed.” The words struck me like a blow to the chest. My eyes locked on her, on Briar lying there, and a weight I hadn’t expected settled over my chest. She had gone into that godforsaken forest, and she had come out alive. Alive. “It seems that Azrael has found himself a bride,” Aganju added, her voice calm, almost too quiet, and the arrogance in it made my jaw tighten.

On my wedding day, my fiancé, Ryder Conti, cast me aside at the church for his mistress and the bastard in her belly. Three years later, I returned to the States with my husband. At a private airstrip, I ran into Ryder, who had the gall to offer me a job as a cook for his mistress's son. He had no idea that the woman he dismissed as a nobody was the most respected Donna in the entire underworld. A strong wind whipped across the private airstrip.

"Oh, now it's OUR party? Where was that energy when she was playing bride?" The laughter faded. Whispers kicked up. Some people even tried to smooth it over. I didn't care. Scooped up the ring he'd ditched, turned to the crowd. "You all saw it. Warren Anderson just broke the engagement. I'm not marrying a guy just because my mom arranged it before she died." Then I stared him down. "Sure, it's not flashy. It's taaffeite—super rare. My family heirloom. But yeah... you're right. You don't deserve it."

"They must've bribed you! Let us in! Marco is the real heir!" "Bribed?" The guard let out a cold snort, slamming the butt of his gun on the ground. "In this territory, Principessa Giulia Verdi's word is law. Disrespect the heiress again, and today becomes your last day on earth." Marco looked like he'd been struck by lightning. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, muttering to himself. "It's a mistake... has to be a mistake... my mafia empire..." Marco's bloodshot eyes suddenly locked onto me, bursting with one last flash of insane fervor.