Crescent Curse

Diana’s POV Nerves ate away at my insides, a restless storm twisting beneath my ribs. Even with the sun warm against the terrace stones, a chill clung to my skin like something unseen had decided to settle there. I just needed a moment to breathe. Nature and I had always moved together like a quiet dance—air, earth, and magic folding into each other in ways I never had to explain. Out here, I could almost pretend my thoughts didn’t hurt. Almost. Because I could feel him. Even before I turned, I knew Skye was there. I knew I would be met with those warm, unsettling chestnut eyes if I looked back. I didn’t. My wolf paced inside me, agitated and raw. She was furious about what we had walked in on earlier—what we had seen him doing with another woman. But I had no right to be upset. I was the one who broke it off. I was the one who rejected him. He’d been given permission to move on, to live his life without me. So why did it feel like something inside me was being torn open? My chest tightened as I drew in a slow breath. And there it was—his scent. Spiced, smoky, familiar in a way that made my throat ache. It filled my lungs before I could stop it, and I had to swallow hard against the sting rising behind my eyes. “I can feel it,” he said finally. Not a question. “You’re angry.” I shook my head quickly, still refusing to turn around. “No.” It wasn’t anger. It was worse. It was hurt I had no permission to feel. Because I had chosen this. Or at least… I had told myself I did. “You’re my mate,” Skye said quietly. “You have every right to be angry with me. Jessica was just—” He exhaled sharply. “I just… wanted to feel something. I’m sorry if that hurt you.” If it had been anyone else, maybe I would’ve felt relief. But I didn’t feel anything at all when I saw him with her. And that terrified me more than jealousy ever could. “I rejected you,” I whispered. My wolf surged at the words, pressing against my control like she wanted to claw her way out and undo everything I had done. My skin prickled hot, as if my own body was betraying me for refusing what we were meant to accept. But I couldn’t go back. Not without breaking something worse. “Yes,” he said softly behind me. “You did. But you never told me why.” There were too many answers. None of them good. None of them his fault. Silence stretched between us until he spoke again. “Is it because of Marco?” My heart stuttered. No. He couldn’t know. Not what I had done in secret—what no one was supposed to find out. A tear slipped free before I could stop it. “How do you know about him?” I whispered, finally breaking. A quiet, humorless sound left him—almost a breath of disbelief. “As your mate,” he said, “I should be the one upset. Not you.” That made my chest tighten further. “Marco seems like a good man,” he continued, softer now. “And if you want… I’ll accept your rejection. I’ll return to my kingdom and pretend we never met.” My breath caught. “But only,” he added, stepping closer, “if you tell me the truth. How you feel about me and what I am to you.” Heat radiated from him now, close enough that I could feel it pressing into my back. His presence wrapped around me like a second heartbeat. His hands hovered near my arms—barely touching, barely there—but the spark of it was undeniable. My breath hitched anyway. “Diana,” he murmured, his voice rougher now. “Please. If you tell me you don’t love me…then I’ll go. I won’t come back. I promise.” My throat tightened. He couldn’t do that. He was Lycan royalty. Rejecting a mate like that didn’t just hurt—it destroyed them. Slowly. Brutally. Until there was nothing left but a hollow shell that eventually stopped breathing altogether. “I can’t,” I whispered. Because I didn’t know. That was the truth I hated most. I didn’t know what I felt anymore. I only knew what I feared. I didn’t want to end up like my mother—torn between bonds and drowning in choices that shattered her and left pieces of our family scattered. I didn’t want multiple ties. Multiple hearts pulling me apart. I wanted Marco. Only Marco. He understands me in a way no one else ever had. But Marco wasn’t allowed here. Not in this world. Not under royal law. Only royal bloodlines could be bound to me. Skye was royal. And Marco was not. And that meant loving one meant destroying the other. A gentle touch brushed over the mark on my skin. Instantly, sparks lit across my body—bright, electric, impossible to ignore. My knees nearly weakened beneath me. My skin glowed faintly gold beneath his fingers. Stupid mate bond. It always reacted before I could think. Skye’s hand lingered, careful, like he was afraid I might break. “I know you’re hiding from it,” he said quietly. “But you already know the answer.” My eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know anything,” I said, voice breaking. “Princess,” he whispered. That word did something to me I didn’t want it to. He stepped closer again, lips brushing my shoulder—soft, almost reverent. “I love you,” he said. “Even if you don’t choose me. I just want you to be happy.” Pain cracked through me at the sincerity in his voice. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know,” he said immediately. “And it’s okay.” Then he let go. The sudden absence of him felt like winter. Cold, sharp, and empty. “I’ll be leaving next week,” he said, already farther away. “If you don’t come to me before then… I’ll understand.” A pause. “Goodbye, Princess Diana… for now.” His footsteps faded. But his scent remained—clinging to the air like he had never left at all. And then I broke. A sob tore through me before I could stop it, and I collapsed onto the terrace stone, not caring who saw. Not caring that the guards were nearby. Not caring about anything except the hollow space inside my chest. Time passed in blurred fragments. Then a shadow fell over me. A tissue box appeared in my line of sight. I looked up, wiping my face quickly with shaking hands. Douglas stood there. My grandfather’s guard. My silent observer. The man who always seemed to know too much and say too little. He offered a small, sad smile. I looked away immediately, ashamed. “Want me to go fetch him?” he asked quietly. I frowned, confused. “What?” “Skye,” he clarified, still watching the sunset instead of me. “Princess… you already know what needs to happen.” My stomach tightened. “No,” I said quickly. “I don’t.” “You do,” he replied gently. “Your grandfather has been informed.” My breath caught. “You told him?” He nodded once. “I did. The king agreed—if you break things off with the warrior, then nothing happens to him." The words didn’t feel real. Like they belonged to someone else’s life. “And if I refuse?” I asked, barely audible. Douglas exhaled. “Then Marco will be banished. And your privileges will be revoked.” He set the tissue box down beside me. “You have a choice, my lady,” he said softly. “Just not the one you think you have.” Then he stepped away; the door closed behind him. And everything collapsed. I was being pushed out of my own life. The only home I had ever known. The only sense of choice I had ever believed was mine. Here’s your edited version with smoother flow, stronger clarity, reduced repetition, and tightened emotional pacing—while keeping your voice and meaning intact: --- My hands shook as I stood. And then— “DIANA ELOISE!” My papa's voice shattered the air. I flinched before I even saw him. He stormed onto the terrace, every step echoing like judgment carved into marble. I couldn’t meet his eyes. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Do you understand what you’ve done? Rejecting the Lycan Prince is not a game, Diana!” “I’m sorry,” I whispered. But he didn’t hear me. “Your mother would be ashamed of you,” he snapped. That did it. My head snapped up. “Don’t,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. “Don’t bring her into this. She left—they both f*****g left.” His mouth opened, but I cut through him. “Why am I the only one expected to care what she would think?” My voice rose. “She hasn’t visited. She hasn’t written. Ten goddessdamn years, and not once—” “Watch your tongue!” Papa barked. His eyes flashed—blue shifting into something sharper, something inhuman. “Gabriel and Everly had no choice!” he said. “You were bound here by an accord—” “I’m not her!” I snapped. “I’m not my mother! And I refuse to be treated like my life is the one you didn't get to plan out for her. Because we all know you and Grandma hate the three men she's been fated to. None of them are royal, and none of them are what you wanted for your perfect little Everly." Silence crashed down like thunder as my chest heaved. “I get to choose,” I said, trembling. “I get to make mistakes. And if I choose not to be with my mate, that is my choice!” The ice in my glare was deafening. But what he did next was louder than anything I'd ever heard. The slap came before I even saw it. Pain exploded across my cheek. My breath stopped instantly. The taste of copper flooded my mouth, and the world tilted. I cast a sharp glance at my still-fuming grandfather—my Papa. His face was flushed with rage, but beneath it—beneath the thunder of his anger—I could feel something else. Something fractured. Something almost like regret, struggling to surface and being forced back down again. He had never hit me before. That fact settled heavier than the pain itself. Not because it didn’t hurt, but because it meant this had gone too far. That whatever line existed between us had finally been crossed. And I hated him for it. Not because I didn’t love him. But because I did. Because I was being forced into a life I didn’t choose, into a bond I didn’t understand, into a future I couldn’t even breathe in without feeling like it was closing in on me. A prince I wasn’t sure I wanted. A mate I wasn’t sure I could accept. "The contract has been signed; both his parents and your grandmother and I agreed that you'll be leaving with the prince when he leaves for England next week. Get your things in order and say your goodbyes. Because you'll be staying there permanently. And if you don't agree, your role as princess of this kingdom will be revoked and never given back." My chest burned, something dangerous stirring beneath my skin—power, emotion, and everything colliding at once. And for a brief, terrifying second, I felt it rise. My magic. Hot, reactive, and highly unstable. I could have burned the terrace to ash if I let it out. I could have turned everything around me into ruin. But I didn’t. Because if I did, there would be no undoing it. So I swallowed it down, my breath trembling violently as I forced myself to stay standing. “I hate this,” I whispered—though I wasn’t sure if I meant them, him, or myself. Then I turned. I didn’t wait for permission. Didn’t wait for another command. I ran. Bare feet hitting stone, breath breaking apart in my chest, I fled through the palace halls until the world blurred into motion and sound and heat..