Who Made The Corpse Bride Novels & Stories

] [Please remove the nail from Ximena's head and use the universal glue to repair her skull to increase intimacy. [Survival is not easy. Please keep working hard.] The ghost bride's name really was Ximena. I glanced at the top of her head. There was a gaping hole, and inside it sat a rusty nail. A chill ran down my spine. However, that brief hesitation was enough for Ximena's expression to turn icy. "Guards. Cut this groom into pieces and serve him to the guests." Not far away, a bloated, grotesque puppet slowly sharpened the blade in its hand. The grinding metal sound scraped against my nerves.

Theodora Althea Corazon, a woman buried six feet below the ground and now the living corpse bride of a man, The Mafioso's Corpse Bride.

I whispered and he chuckled darkly. “Who are you again?” “Hanie Carter. Wife to Ethan Carter. CEO of the Carter enterprise. My husband is so loving to let me take over his company.” I muttered dotingly as we walked out of the room and he nodded in satisfaction. “Don't slip up. Emotions would only break you down and make it easy for you to be trampled on.” He reminded me and I flashed him a smile. “Stephanie Stone died in the elevator that day. Along with all her emotions. Hanie is manipulative. Dangerous. Seductive. We're not the same.” I said, getting into the car and he leaned down, a cunning look on his face.

My hair was also a simple bun at the back of my head, with a jewelled clip to hold my veil in place. The bridal gown was pure white and simple. The skirt was flowing with a slight train and the sleeves were lace. Although my father had objected to the ‘unconventional dress’ at first…but he had changed his mind at the last minute when my groom’s father, and by father’s good friend, Mr. Davis, had reminded him that this was the twenty first century and women dressing in lace sleeves was appropriate enough. And yet…Mr. Davis hadn’t thought that arranged marriages should’ve been left behind in the nineteenth century either.

When we reached the altar, I turned to face the pack elder officiating the ceremony. He cleared his throat and began. “Brothers and sisters of the pack, we are gathered here under the light of the full moon to witness the sacred mating bond between Lyra Dominic and Adrian Massimo. The mate bond is blessed by the Moon Goddess herself, not to be entered into lightly, but with reverence and eternal commitment…” He droned on about loyalty and the sanctity of the mate bond and forever. Words that meant nothing coming from a man who had no idea what was really happening.

“Which is exactly why this is happening.” That made Elara pause. "What? How? Why?" Felix continued, his tone maddeningly calm, almost reverent. “You can say that... He’s proud.” The word landed wrong. Elara blinked. “Proud of what?” Lisa leaned forward, her eyes glittering, and her voice dropping conspiratorially like she was sharing the punchline to a private joke. “That he stole someone’s bride on her wedding day.” Felix nodded, entirely serious now. “Stole her! Married her!! Lives with her now!!!”

It also meant that there might be something big in the coffin. It was also Gerald’s first time seeing such a bizarre scene. It would be a lie if he said that he was not in panic now. “It can’t be a hiderigami, right?” Gerald was talking to himself, somewhat confused. To put it simply, a hiderigami was a dried corpse. In simpler words, a zombie. This thing had been created by using a corpse. The corpse would absorb the essence of the sun and moon and transform into a corpse demon.

“We couldn’t find a swap but I can do something.” My face grew hot with rage and my hands shook as I drew my crawls to slash the Healer’s face, but he was quick to do something useful. He took off the sheet masking the other bed and my rage faded. He had designed a corpse that looks exactly like Valerie’s body. I sighed. I can’t tell why he chose to risk his life when he could have just told me he had something in stock for me. “Grey killed one of my apprentices.” He pointed at the corpse. “I made him into this. The burial will be useful for him. I hope you will pay for the loss, too.”

And love had chosen them back. The curse was gone. The packs were whole. And in Elara’s womb, a new heartbeat answered the dawn. The werewolf’s bride had become the werewolf’s mother. And the story, after so much blood, so much darkness, finally found its light.

The weirdo did not look like a shaman at all. He was wearing bright pink feather coat. His hair was tied into bright blonde pigtails and he wore a large neon pink hat on his head. He also carried an Armani bag pack over his shoulder. The guy looked more like a middleaged fashion designer than a shaman. Joonjae was not too fond of the guy but he had no choice. Undertaker was the only shaman who was daring enough to agree to Joonjae and Chaerin's ghost marriage. Moreover, Undertaker was equally determined to bring down Park Haewon. He would not disclose his reasons, but his agenda did not matter to Joonjae as long as their goal was the same.