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Cursed (The Broken Immortals Book 2)

Imara Parker is running from a curse that is supposed to kill her before she's 25. When she moves to a new safehouse, a young farmer (werewolf) named Ben delivers food to her, and they realize they are mates. Her brother tries to keep them apart but eventually gives in, and they get married. Things go well for a while, but Nightmares of Imara's death plague ben. One day he comes home to find a strange man at his kitchen table, realizes his family is dead, and the stranger curses him to relive his torment over and over for eternity, then kills Ben. Fifty years later, Ben wakes up in a house that doesn't belong to him, recovering from the stab wound that killed him. As he's leaving, he comes face to face with Imara and her brother again. Ben and Imara have blocked out their traumatic memories and don't realize they are mates. But her brother remembers and hires Ben to be Imara's bodyguard. Ben eventually remembers and vows to never allow Imara to remember or to let her love him, thinking he's the curse. Imara eventually remembers as well and is so heartbroken over what happens that she is inconsolable. They both die again, but while Imara is in the spirit world, she is given magic knives but the Darke King, who happens to be Ben's ancestor. With her new tool against their enemy, Imara returns fifty years later and is reunited with Ben; they train to defeat the man that cursed them. Ben is able to defeat the warlock, then goes in search of Imara in the magical world; they live happily ever after.

Jessica White · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
41 Chs

Chapter31

#Chapter31

/"Imara! Slow down. Baby, please wait for me!/" The cool forest air bit at his lungs as he ran along the dirt path after Imara. No matter how hard he tried to reach her, she was always a few steps ahead.

Once he got past the tall stone guardians at the gate, he followed her scent down a cobblestone road to a harbor. She sat on an old wooden dock with her feet dangling in the water, watching the ships sail off into the fiery sunset beyond the horizon.

A gust of wind caught her hair, the scent of warm apple pie slapped him in the face.

/"Imara!/" Ben shot up in bed and looked around the room lit only by the stormy Savannah morning that awaited him on the other side of the curtains.

/"No, not with this ugly mug, I’m not./" The familiar Norwegian accent cut through the dark room before he switched on the lights.