The Cursed Hybrid Bride

MEIRA ASHFORD

From cursed to shamed to destroying the one I loved, this is my story. Even now, retelling it feels like dragging a knife across a wound that never healed. My name is Meira Ashford, though most in the pack call me the cursed girl. I wish I could say they were wrong.

It was a forbidden time for wolves to leave their pack, especially she-wolves. My aunt Elizabeth had just sent me out—or rather, shouted at me as usual.

“The deltas have passed the information around. No wolves, especially she-wolves, should be out after the full moon appears. The pack is conducting a ritual, and anyone outside might not make it back alive.”

“Are you informing me of what I already know?” she snapped, her eyes burning holes into me.

I sat on the floor, bruised and aching, blood already drying on my skin. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.

It wasn’t even my fault. Her precious daughter Annabelle had decided she needed to smell the night-blooming jasmines.

“Please,” I whispered, still on my knees. My body throbbed from the afternoon’s beating, punishment for adding too much spice to Claribel’s food. Claribel and Annabelle were twin sisters, my cousins and my tormentors.

“I don’t care,” Aunt Elizabeth sneered. “You’re cursed anyway. It wouldn’t matter if you died in that forest. I’d thank the Moon Goddess for doing us a favor.”

She kicked me in the stomach. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Her hatred was inevitable. It wasn’t just her. It was the whole pack. That was life in the Whitmore household: every bruise a lesson, every scar a reminder that I didn’t belong.

I was always told that I was cursed. My parents, a warlock mother and a wolf father, died the night I was born, but I never knew the true reason behind it.

Sometimes, I saw visions. Not clearly, not by choice. They came in pieces, mostly in my dreams… like memories that didn’t belong to me.

There was one dream in particular that has stayed with me all my life.

An old woman with silver hair stood before the royal house. The guards chased her away, though I never knew what crime she had committed. When she reached the gate, she bent down, picked something from the ground, and spoke with a voice that was pale but powerful.

“I curse this kingdom today.”

She cursed the water the people would drink, the soil they would walk on, and every pup born that very second. She said they would grow only to bring ruin to the pack—especially to the royal family. Pain echoed in her voice as she spoke, and lightning cracked across the sky the moment she finished.

Then the dream changed.

A newborn pup was crying… And on its chest was the very same mark I carry between my breasts.

I’ve had that dream again and again.

But I never told anyone.

I didn’t even fully understand it myself.

But I suspected it had something to do with the curse.

I tiptoed into the forest for Annabelle’s precious flower, my bare legs brushing the cold grass. The night was thick, damp, and heavy with the scent of moss and danger. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. Not a soul moved.

“Oh, Moon Goddess,” I murmured, glancing at the swollen moon. “If I die for a flower, please make sure she steps on a thorn.”

A sharp crack split the silence. My heart dropped to my stomach.

“Who’s there?” I demanded, my voice breaking before steadying again.

Another sound followed, closer this time. My pulse spiked. I grabbed a fallen branch, the rough bark biting into my palm. My back arched, muscles tensed, ready to fight or die trying.

Then the darkness shifted. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, broad-shouldered and sinfully graceful. Instinct took over, and I hurled the branch straight at him.

“Ouch!” the stranger grunted, catching it with one hand before it grazed his jaw. “Seriously? That’s your welcome?”

My jaw fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll roll out a red carpet before you sneak up on me like a creep in the woods.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. It was smooth, rich, and annoyingly pleasant. “Creep? I was just walking. You’re the one throwing weapons at innocent travelers.”

“Innocent travelers don’t wander around dark forests dressed like nightmares.”

He stepped closer, and moonlight spilled over his face. He was tall, at least six foot three, with sculpted cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and blue eyes that looked like they had seen too much.

“Wow,” I muttered before I could stop myself. “You’re way too pretty to die in a bush.”

“You’re way too pretty to die out here,” he muttered.

His brow arched. “Pretty?”

“Don’t get excited. You still look like the type who buries bodies for fun, but at least you’d make the obituary pages look good.”

He arched an eyebrow, obviously amused. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

“Thanks. Helps me stay alive when men twice my size try to look mysterious in the woods.”

He laughed, a dark, melodic sound that made my skin prickle. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have announced myself.”

I heard a faint, eerie sound cutting through the trees. He didn’t react, not even a twitch. Maybe he hadn’t heard it. Or maybe he was pretending. Either way, I swallowed hard and let it slide, though my heart was thrashing against my ribs.

He tilted his head, studying me like I was something intriguing. “You don’t seem afraid.”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” I said, folding my arms. “I’m just better at hiding it than most girls you probably scare for fun.”

His smirk deepened. “You’re not most girls.”

“Good observation, Sherlock. Now, if you’re done lurking, I have a date with staying alive.” I turned to leave.

I paused and faced him again. From head to toe, he didn’t look like a traveler. “Why are you out here at this time? Do you even know no one is supposed to be outside?”

He gave a lazy half-smile. “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Of course not,” I muttered.

Then, almost casually, he said, “I’m new to this pack. Just arrived tonight.”

Something in my chest flickered—curiosity, annoyance; I wasn’t sure. “Good for you. I’ve been here my whole cursed life. So forgive me if I’m not exactly rolling out the welcome mat.”

A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Feisty little wolf, aren’t you? Most she-wolves try to impress me, but you… you’re the first to insult me twice in five minutes.”

I shrugged. “Maybe you’re not that impressive.”

He opened his mouth to say something.

Before he could start, a loud crack ripped through the forest. A tree splintered and fell very close to me, shaking the ground.

He called after me, but I was already running, faster than my legs should have carried me. Branches tore at my skin, my breath came ragged, but I didn’t stop until I reached the edge of the pack’s territory.

I glanced back once. His blue eyes still burned in the darkness as the shadows swallowed him whole.

Thank the goddess I made it back alive. My heart was still racing, my body ached, and my mind spun. I hoped our paths would never cross again. Because if he ever saw what I truly was—the cursed hybrid the pack despised—he would look at me the same way everyone else did.

Like I was unworthy of happiness. Like filth.