The Luna Is A Widow-Maker

The Luna Is A Widow-Maker

Daniel

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I was cursed to be a Widow-maker. First one? Died in a carriage accident on the way to the wedding. Second? Drowned right in front of my door. Third? He lasted a little longer. But on the wedding night, ate too much and-boom-literally burst. Then came Harry Ashford. My fourth. The Widower-maker. And that's how we made our bond. Here we go again. But he didn't die on the wedding night. "You're still here," I said, eyeing him like I had just stepped into a trap. He grinned. "I don't die that easily." And damn it, Harry Ashford was different. He survived. I thought I'd have a few years of peace, but nope. He was stubborn enough to stick around. But it wasn't just him. The Ashford pack. And the secrets darker than death itself.

Chapter 1 Chapter 1

Rumors swirl: the Blackwood Pack Alpha's daughter curses husbands.

And the rumor's true. Not one of mine survived three days.

Ashford, a name from the Moonshadow Pack, wealthy and respected-more than a match for my Ironclaw.

Both families seasoned by loss. Widows, widowers, we're all familiar with death. And this marriage-arranged, but silent.

No firecrackers. No loud celebrations. Only whispers.

"One dares to marry, the other dares to wed. Who do you think's fated to last?"

"Blackwood. Their women... they're cursed, aren't they?"

"I heard... the Blackwood daughter drains a man's life with each passing day."

Juliette snapped the car window down.

"Miss, you hear that? Let me tell the alpha!"

" If he hasn't died yet, he's strong. We wait."

"Is this them wishing for your long life? How kind."

I tossed a handful of werewolf coins out the window, watching their eyes widen. "Reward them for their kindness."

The gossips exchanged looks, but one face stayed still, unamused.

Harry's nanny, Sara ,ever the watchful eye, lingered. "Ashford's letting them talk-letting them feed this filth."

Later that night, Harry arrived-late, of course.

No drunken stumble, just sluggish steps, coffee in hand.

Juliette hovered, ready to pounce with every word.

I silenced her.

I watched Harry take a seat.

"It'll be a quick death," I muttered to my maids.

He walked toward me slowly, reaching for my veil. I snatched it away before his fingers could touch it.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

"Afraid you'll tire yourself out," I said with mockery.

He moved toward the bed.

I stood, blocking his path.

"This is how you treat your husband?"

"Madness!"

He stepped closer, voice rising. "You've been married four times! Are you trying to humiliate me?"

I laughed, a sharp sound in the silence. "If I've buried three husbands, why would I fear burying a fourth?"

His face reddened.

He stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

I leaned back, my gaze fixed on the door.

He wasn't going to make it to the morning.

The next morning opened with disappointment.

Harry hadn't died.

He stood at the door, not even sparing me a glance.

I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for his three late wives.

Marrying a man like this? He'd drive any normal woman mad.

But I've already killed three husbands, my reputation is ruined,too and even my brother uses me to threaten people. "You want to mess with me? I'll get my sister to marry you!"

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