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36. No Reason
Last Updated:
2024-05-11 02:37:09
Priyal DessaiThanks for reading! If you're liking the story, consider voting with gems or leaving a review!
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 37. Trails of Blood and Decay
Lila's paws pound against the earth, her muscles flexing with each powerful stride. The forest drowns her in a symphony of scents and sounds—the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, the earthy aroma of damp soil. It is a familiar melody, one she has missed dearly during her time confined within the walls of the palace inside the mind of her human counterpart. As she races through the dense foliage, the cool breeze brushes against her fur, sending shivers of exhilaration down her spine. The sensation of freedom surges through her veins, lifting her spirits higher with every bound. She is alive, truly alive, in a way that only the wild can offer.Emerging from the shadows of the forest, Lila reaches the cliff's edge, overlooking the vastness of the Cursed Gulf. The sight takes her breath away—the rolling waves crashing against jagged rocks, the salty tang of the sea mingling with the crisp air.In the distance, a ship appears on the horizon, its sails billowing in the wind as it app
Last Updated : 2024-05-13Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 38. The King's Arrival
[ELARA]As soon as I can feel my hands again, I begin to wipe the blood that is smeared on my face. As the last of Lila’s fur disappears from my body, and I’m left naked, I can hear my heart once again—it’s pounding furiously. The taste of blood is still evident on my tongue as I reach to the grass-covered ground and pick up the scarlet fabric that Lila just tore off of the dead man’s hand. The man… I know him. He’s a minister at court. I saw him this morning with Magnus in the hallways… and now he’s dead. Murdered. Brutally. And this fabric—as much as I wish it weren’t true—belongs to one of Morgana’s gowns. Which implies that she killed him. Or is clear evidence of her involvement. It’s hard to believe that a plain wish to shift into my wolf form would lead to such a horrifying revelation. I have to tell Magnus about this as soon as I can. I shrug into my silk lilac gown, and brush off the dry leaves that are stuck in my lace sleeves. I comb my fingers through my hair, trying my
Last Updated : 2024-05-13Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 39. A Diplomatic Dinner
[ELARA]Magnus noticed. Ruelle noticed. Hell, everyone in the hall with their eyes on Eldric noticed that he was staring at me with a smirk. Out of everyone else, me. Elara Wildewood. A beta from an independent pack at a border of the continent with no special powers. A nobody, really. Easily ignored, someone who could blend in. Or so I believed. But no one did anything about it. Even when I looked to Magnus for help, all he responded with was a more clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. And then everything settled—King Eldric walked to his throne and sat himself on it, not before dusting off nonexistent dirt from the velvet seat. He then recited vaguely of the heroism with which Caelondor conquered Wyvern, leaving their enemies crushed. Kian, the dead crowned prince, was briefly mentioned as he informed the masses about the funeral that would happen tomorrow. But then he burst into a wide grin as he revealed that, "There is something good coming."It’s been several hours since that happe
Last Updated : 2024-05-15Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 40. The Secret Passageway
[ELARA]Dinner is a long affair, extending long past midnight. Platters of food are brought in to replace the empty ones. This is followed by recitation of tales from the battlefield—everyone praises King Eldric after every sentence is spoken. I realize there are commanders of the army among us. I’m not allowed to leave, nor do I get a chance to speak to Magnus as he is occupied in conversations with ministers. Somewhere during the night, Lady Celia requests to retire from the gathering. Ruelle does the same, repeating her mother’s words. I join in too, and thankfully, when King Eldric nods, we’re allowed to go. “You would’ve liked Kian,” Ruelle says sadly as she walks by my side. “He was a good man.”“He’ll be in a better place tomorrow. In the Goddess’ Meadow,” I say, hoping it will comfort her.‘Liar. You don’t even believe in an afterlife,’ Lila mocks me. Ruelle gives me a smile, which is sad too. Her blue eyes are exhausted, but her dark hair is still perfect. “I’ll see you in
Last Updated : 2024-05-17Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 41. The Funeral
[ELARA]The Cursed Gulf is calm today—it’s an usual scene. Every time I’ve gazed into this sea, I’ve seen it covered with thunderclouds at the horizon, no matter what time of the day it is. This serene calmness looks like a sign from the Goddess herself as she takes back the dead prince into her meadow. Kian Blackwell is laid onto a wooden pyre, adorned in the finest silk. Mourners surround it, gathering in hundreds over the sands that border the Cursed Gulf. Soulbinders recite the prayers that are meant to release his soul, making it free to cross over to the ethereal realm and into the Goddess’ meadow. When they’re done, King Eldric approaches the pyre, casting one last longing look at the only son he ever had before he places a crown on his chest and retraces his steps. The Queen Mother Seraphina finally makes an appearance just before the funeral ceremony concludes, flanked by her maids. She’s dressed in the color of mourning—a plain gray gown, her face covered in a netted veil.
Last Updated : 2024-05-18Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 42. Mithridatism
[MAGNUS]“Aren’t you done yet, Magnus?” Nyra’s honeyed voice echoes in the blurry room as she shifts her bare body on the cushioned bench, a teasing look twinkling in her brown eyes. All of her dark curls are parted to one side of her body, that extend from her head to the curve of her waist. “Don’t move, love,” I tell her as I focus on bringing her beauty on the canvas in front of me. It’s hard—not only to focus on painting her when she’s naked in front of me, but also to truly bring every detail on the canvas. “You’re beautiful, Nyra,” the words left my mouth without my notice. She chuckles, her figure disintegrating only to fit back up again like pieces of a puzzle. “Kiss me then,” she commands. The corners of my vision blur a little more. “Come to me,” I tell her as I begin to walk towards her. But with every step I take forward, more distance is created between us. “Come to me, Nyra,” I repeat myself impatiently, now running towards her. But she moves further and further away
Last Updated : 2024-05-23Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 43. The New Council
[MAGNUS]The moment I step into the council room, my attention is drawn to the painted ceiling. A ladder leans against the wall, atop which stand two humans engrossed in painting a blank section. A smirk touches my lips as I suppress a laugh. A victory over Wyvern—a small kingdom, barely a third the size of Caelondor—certainly doesn’t deserve to be immortalized there.Eldric sits in his regal chair at the center of the table, watching the painters with proud eyes. As soon as I take my seat, he regards me with his gruff yet cool voice, “Ah, nephew! How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. The sand clock… give it to me.”He opens the palm of his bandaged hand. An unhealed wound? A battle wound? Eldric quickly withdraws his hand when he notices me studying it. He brings forward his other hand, and I carefully place the sand clock in it. Clear nervousness flickers across his face before he shakes it away.“Shall we begin?” Eldric asks the ministers seated quietly around the
Last Updated : 2024-05-23Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 44. The Execution
[ELARA]The crowd in the palace courtyard forms a restless sea of faces, each etched with curiosity and grim anticipation. I stand at a distance beneath a stall roof reserved for the royal family's viewing of executions, should they choose to attend. At my side is Magnus, his shoulders tense, lips sealed in anger. He clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly, struggling to maintain composure.Silent, he stares straight ahead, fixated on the gray stone slab where Morgana will meet her fate today. As the hour approaches, the crowd's murmurs fade into tense silence. The creak of scaffold steps draws my attention, and I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the condemned woman being led forward. My breath catches as I recognize Morgana, once a woman of strong will and sharp intellect, now reduced to a trembling figure in a tattered red gown, her black hair disheveled.Morgana’s lips move frantically, but no words escape. She stumbles, the guard at her side tightening his grip, almost drag
Last Updated : 2024-05-24
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 117. The Stable boy
[ELARA]I notice, somewhere between the refilled goblets and the swelling melody of the Bard’s latest song, that Magnus is gone. And Alistair with him. Not that I was informed about it. The feast carries on without them. The Bard, ever the showman, soaks in the attention, strumming his lute with a smirk that suggests he’s well aware of the effect he has on the court. Thornhall has something new to play with tonight. The dancers sit sulking in a corner, forgotten. The musicians find themselves disagreeing with the songs. “I will bed this man tonight,” Lady Brook announces, her words thick with drink as she leans forward, nearly spilling from her seat.I arch a brow. “The Bard?”“Who else?” she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. “Look at him. That mouth was made for more than singing.”“That’s ambitious.” I huff a quiet laugh, lifting my goblet to my lips. “Don’t let Edith know.”“If I had a mother like that—” she begins with a lazy grin, then downs the rest of her wine. “What do you think
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 116. Burning for the Enemy
[ELARA]“Did you enjoy the ballad, Your Highness?” Valen’s teasing voice curls around me, his amusement barely concealed. He rises from his seat with effortless grace, extending his hand as if he knew—knew—I would come to him. “I worked with the man himself to craft it.”Every movement in the hall slows. A royal woman should not do this. A wife should not do this. The weight of a hundred eyes presses upon me, mouths whispering, hands tightening around goblets—a scandal. But let them watch. Let them see what their beloved prince has wrought. Let them murmur about the disgrace of Magnus’ mate, the woman who was meant to stand at his side.I take Valen’s hand. His skin is cooler than Magnus’, his grip lighter, but no less commanding.“Do not speak,” I say, my voice a blade, and he only grins.“Remember when I told you last night that when you command me, you’re even—”I cut him off. “Will you dance with me or not?” My words are steel-wrapped velvet, laced with something desperate and rec
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 115. A Fool for the Last Time
[ELARA]I want to leave. No—storm off. Let every guest see, let them know I do not stand by their beloved Prince, their cold and callous Magnus. Let them whisper about the insult, the blatant disrespect. I would not care. I want them to see. I want him to see.How dare he? How dare he shatter my heart so effortlessly, as if it were made of glass? If this is his response—if this is how he welcomes another into his arms so easily, so publicly—then what has he done in the quiet of the past five months? How many nights has he spent like this, without hesitation, without guilt?I knew Talisa—Morgana… kept him company, but I thought… no more. Not since he learned what we are to each other. Not since he learned I am his mate. But now my heart burns, set upon a spit, roasting in the heat of my own foolishness.I told myself he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t. But I see now—I was wrong. I was so wrong.And I kept Valen away because it was him I thought of. Even when Valen’s hands traced my skin, I
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 114. The Offering
[MAGNUS]Valen parts as if nothing has transpired between them—as if he didn’t just openly challenge me. He moves leisurely, as though this is his court, and not mine. A smirk ghosts his lips as he settles into one of the crowded rows, plucking a goblet of wine from a passing maid’s tray with effortless ease.His gaze doesn’t stray from Elara. He watches her as if she belongs to him. He dares to do this. Right in front of my eyes. In a castle I rule.Alistair steps forward to replace the bent chalice without a word. The wine’s poured again, but I no longer care to drink more. If the barrier in Elara’s chamber wasn’t breached, and Valen did not leave his chambers the whole night, when could he have given her the gift? And what did he give her? Before I can demand an answer from Elara, I’m interrupted by a lord whose name I do not recall. “Your Highness,” the human begins, bowing impressively low despite his age. “This humble servant has brought you an offering.”His voice draws Ela
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 113. A Feast of Fury
[MAGNUS]As the sun dips down the horizon, the Small Hall of the castle packs up with guests. Among the crowd are those who reside in the castle, lords and ladies from all corners of Tassel, and some from beyond the borders. And then there are the performers—the usual musicians, and the new dancers. And the bard—invited by Lord Valen. The air is already filled with lively music by the time I make my entry into the hall. I put on my persona—one I’ve perfected to please the masses, a mask that has efficiently erased my image as the crippled, wicked Prince of Caelondor, a name whispered across the continent. I smile, laugh, and greet people. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all get the same wide mouthed grin. They bow and curtsy. Others who are more touchy are removed by Alistair effortlessly. I don’t even sense her at first due to the shield. But she’s there, sitting on a chair behind the banquet table, hands clasped in her lap, looking ethereal in a golden and white gown. I forge
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 112. Caged Desires
[MAGNUS]To His Highness, the Rightful Heir,Your Highness,I pray this letter reaches you in safe hands, for I write in desperate times. The kingdom you once called home trembles under the weight of the false king’s rule. His greed knows no bounds—lands are seized without cause, coffers are drained by insatiable taxation, and noble blood is spilled for the mere crime of questioning his judgment. Once-loyal houses now stand divided as their heirs are taken as hostages, their warriors forced to fight in unwinnable wars against territories that were never our enemies. Your father’s kingdom is on the brink of ruin. The people whisper of rebellion, but they lack a leader to rally behind. Many among the nobility look not to the throne in the capital, but to the exiled prince, the rightful ruler, the son of a true king. If you would return, you would not stand alone. There are those of us willing to defy the tyrant and restore honor to the crown, even if he refuses to name you heir, we nee
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 111. A Rose and a Nightmare
[ELARA]I find myself on the shore of the Cursed Gulf yet again. The sky above me is the colour of flames—golden, orange, streaks of yellow and black, the world tilted on its axis in my perspective. My feet are hidden beneath the sand, but I don’t panic. Yet, I still wonder. Why am I back here again? My dreams haven’t been plagued by the Soulkeeper in months. Not since Valen taught me how to stop acknowledging its presence. I know I didn’t sleep with poison beneath my pillow last night.And I still am here, trapped in this nightmare. This is not real, I tell myself, willingly for this to fade, for me to wake. But it doesn’t happen. I suppose I will have to endure. And so I do. The boiling water of the sea lashes on the shore with each wave until it freezes, a cold mist enveloping me. This time when the Soulkeeper comes on his cog, his face isn’t hidden. No, the hood is drawn back, and staring right into my soul is the one red eye of Valen Blackbane. And despite everything I know a
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 110. Falling Into The Burn
[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 109. The Taste of Restraint
[ELARA]On any other night, I would have been cautious, wary of the vampire’s seductive pull, the way he ensnares his prey, just as mentioned in the passage. But tonight, the Burn eclipses reason, and every brush of Valen’s touch sets me alight, leaving me aching, craving.And he looks prepared to give me all I demand and more. Valen doesn’t need further assurance. His lips drag slowly from the curve of my shoulder, up my neck, to finally halt at my earlobe, nibbling it gently. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the sensation consumes me completely. I’m gasping, my breath shaky as I struggle to find something to do with my own hands, while his left arm snakes around the front of my waist, pressing my back against his hard body. The sound of his breath in my ear is maddening. It’s fast, irregular. A lot more intense than what breathing should sound like. He pauses from my ear, returning to press kisses to my shoulder only to push the sleeve of my shift down my arm with his teeth.
