Page 6 of Cursed
Looking up at the ceiling again, Nori tries to recall what her mom said. “Many years ago, the Prince rejected his first Mate Bond the moment he laid eyes on her.The female was painfully plain, wearing tattered clothes, clearly poverty-stricken. Unworthy of the powerful Prince of All Wolves.”
Nori drums her fingers on the floor, thinking of what happened next. “The moment she spoke the words to accept his rejection, her pathetic appearance melted away. Shetransformed into an incredibly beautiful woman with immense power. It turns out she was a witch.”
Aylin is stunned. “His first Mate was a witch?”
“It happens sometimes—Bonds forming with other species. It’s really rare, though,” Nori replies.
“Anyway,” Nori continues with her story. “The witch had cast a spell that would cause any future Mate to see her as a penniless wretch. The spell was a test, you see. To determine if her future Mate was truly worthy of her power. When the Prince failed the test, rejecting her simply because she was poor, she cursed him for his arrogance.”
Aylin, now fully immersed in the story, asks, “And what exactly was the curse?”
“Prince Drakemoor was said to have been a breathtakingly beautiful man. The curse stripped away his looks, making him hideous. Supposedly, horrible, bloody scars cover his face and body.”
“Oh, no! That sounds terrible.” Aylin’s tone is full of sympathy.
Nori shivers at the thought of all those scars. “The curse gets worse if that’s possible,” she says. “All of his future Mates will reject the Mate Bond without hesitation because of his repulsive appearance. It won’t matter that he’s a Prince and would make a powerful Mate. Only when he learns humility and compassion will he find a Mate who can overlook the scars. This Mate will be the one to accept the Bond and break the curse.”
Aylin sucks in a breath, shocked. “Wow, that witch went overboard on her revenge. The Moon Goddess already dispenses her own form of punishment with the pain she inflicts from rejecting the Mates she chooses for us. This curse seems extreme!”
Nori frowns at the severity of such a curse. “Agreed.”
With more determination than she’s had since they woke up, Aylin declares, “Let’s just try not to freak out about being in the Blood Moon Pack. Maybe this Cursed Prince will take pity on us.”
Her wolf’s laugh resonates through Nori’s mind. “I mean, look at you. You are looking pretty pitiful right now—mud in your hair, dirt all over you, and you are skin and bones.”
Nori smiles because she does look pretty rough. “And I stink too!”
“Let’s look on the bright side; at least no one has beaten the crap out of us since we got here!”
Nodding in agreement, Nori exclaims, “Excellent point!”
chapter four
The next evening, the ground trembles beneath the thunder of hooves, announcing the imminent arrival of ten of the most powerful males in the Pack. In the lead rides the largest and most formidable of them all, the Alpha of Blood Moon Pack and Prince of All Wolves, Ryland Drakemoor.
Mounted on his massive black steed, Ryland is the picture of a Viking Warrior King. His battle leathers are dark as night, and his chest plate bears the insignia of the Blood Moon Pack: three jagged silver claw marks slashing diagonally through a blood-red full moon.
Heavy black bear furs, frozen with sleet and snow, coverhis broad shoulders. A long sword hangs on his hip, while a crossbow is slung across his back. The wind whips his shoulder-length, jet-black hair behind him as he rides through the castle gates, coming to rest at the main entrance.
The men have been riding all day and into the night through the dense forest, enduring the relentless icy weather to bring their Rogue Wolf prisoner back to the castle for interrogation. Cold, wet, and exhausted, the warriors are thrilled to be home.
Ryland jumps down from his mammoth black horse, landing on the slushy ground. He shoves back his wet hair, wincing as his fingers graze the jagged scar cutting across his face—the largest and most visible of all the scars that cover most of his body.
A cruel reminder of the curse he has endured for eighty years, the scar carves through most of the left side of his face. It begins at the top of his forehead, slashing between his eyebrows and grazing the bridge of his nose. It nicks the corner of his left eye, then it widens as it stretches across most of his left cheek before finally tapering off onto his neck, just below his jawline. He’s grateful it spared his mouth because eating would have been a bitch otherwise.
The giant scar has certainly accomplished its intended purpose. Every female who has felt the Mate Bond with him over the past eighty years has immediately rejected him.
As if those rejections weren’t bad enough, the myriad of reactions to his face were their own form of punishment. Very few could meet his eyes without first inspecting the scar.
Upon seeing his face, Ryland could expect anything from eyes looking away in discomfort to shocked gasps to frowns of sadness or pity. The pity looks were the worst and aggravated him the most. Their eyes filled with sorrow for him. It makes him feel weak, and he is most assuredly not weak.
Twenty pack members run out to greet the riding party, including his Beta and cousin, Garek Thornfield. Ryland waits for everyone to gather around, and then he issues his orders.
“Omegas, see to the horses; they’ve been riding all day and night. Guards, we’ve captured a Rogue Wolf for interrogation. The beast is docile enough for now. Keep his chains tight as you haul him to the dungeon and sedate him after you put him in his cell. As for the rest of you, well done! Our eastern province is safe tonight because of your unparalleled skills for hunting and destroying the Rogue scourge!” The crowd erupts in thunderous cheers.
“Now, enjoy your time off. You’ve earned it!”
Organized chaos ensues as everyone follows their respective orders. The riders gather their gear and head inside to dry off and get some much-needed food and rest.The Guards carry the heavily chained Rogue Wolf toward the dungeons, and the Omegas lead the horses to the stables.
