Cursed Santa の小説・ストーリー

Also, it appeared that Alessia was quite familiar with the creature. "It's the evil Santa!" Alessia shrieked. "We're as so fúcking dead!" Alessia's mind raced back to her childhood when she had been obsessed with mythology and had amassed a vast collection of books on the subject. She vividly remembered reading about Krampus, a legendary figure from Alpine folklore that appeared only to punish naughty children every December 5th. Alessia wondered if she had been naughty or nice as she recollected everything she had done both in the De Luca household and in her twenty years on earth. While she had indeed done some good deeds, the evil she had perpetrated far outweighed the good.

"I can lift the curse off you. I can unbind anything and so I can send the curse back to whence they come," She says. Katara refuses to worry about how she knew about the curse. "If you can, then all you want of me you will have," Kai offered. Abramo's mouth fell open as he anticipated Santina's demand for half of Valmore but she didn't demand anything. "Because I am a part of your destiny and you two a part of mine, I demand nothing!" Santina did not demand anything to lift the curse that had bothered Alpha Kai so much. She began to carry out a ritual, mouthing words that were barely audible and pushing at the empty air. She had a wand like stick that she produced easily from a bag she kept

She brushed passed and placed her hand on my shoulder. "There is nothing you can do against fate. You can try to fight it, but it has a way of clicking everything together. I knew she was referring to how she was mated to Alpha Killian. Someone used dark magic on her to trick her into believing she was his fated mate when Damon was her real mate. Here she is now, Damon's Luna. Fate made them find their way together. Fate was fucked up, and I hated fate. I nodded, and she walked inside.

she demanded at once. “I am cursed…or I was cursed.” I said and Kylo squished my hand. “My Luna and my pack went through a big tragedy, Alpha Zenith. A half-witch cursed her to be the misery of my pack, and after our coronation, the curse started to happen. And the only way to cut the curse was her death, we asked the Hybrid Reaper’s help but he created a bond with her. I hope you can help us cut it.” She looked at me, and pity lingered in her eyes.

"The curse is real." "No," I said desperately. "What do you mean, this isn't me!" "Four hours," Dante whispered, looking directly at me. "You've been here four hours and I'm already dying." "What do you mean by that? and if you think so, is this how curses work?" "Isn't it?" Soren asked coldly. "Your first mate died in a hunting accident. Random attack. Your second mate got killed by rogues. Random attack. The third mate just dropped dead. Random death."

“I don’t drink that shit! You think I’m crazy?” “I guess that’s why you’re the last man standing today.” “The boys took the news hard last night, God bless ’em, and they drank hard to soften the blow.” “What’s with Santa’s workshop out there?” Cutter smiled wide. “At some point last night, one of these kindhearted idiots realized that I might not make it to Christmas, so they brought Christmas to me, presents and all.” “Hey, speaking of presents,” I began my protest. “About that Fat Boy—”

They spoke of his strength, how he cut through a pack of rogues single-handedly, how even death seemed to follow wherever he went. Elysia listened but said nothing. She didn’t know what he looked like. Only the name. Alaric Varyn. The cursed Alpha. The man whose soldiers had burned her home to ash. The man whose family’s war had ended hers. They said he was cursed, that his touch brought death. That no woman lived to tell of him. But Elysia didn’t care about curses. Curses were her mother’s craft, not hers. What she cared about was vengeance.

What kind of human smiled like that in the face of what I am? The more I tried to force my thoughts back to matters of consequence, the more they circled back to him. To the curve of his mouth, to the resilience in his eyes, to the maddening scent of his blood. Santa. Different. Unpredictable. Tempting. And dangerously unforgettable.

“You're saying you can marry us? Legally?" He shrugs. “I’m ordained online.” I can see my future self telling this story to Anne when she’s older: “And that’s how your mother and father were married on Christmas Eve by Santa Claus. On your birthday.” I burst into the room, tailed by Santa, who laughs as he walks in. “Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas!” Kate cocks her head to the side. “Really, Dorian?" she asks. "Santa? Are you purposely trying to re-traumatize me?"