The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 51: Dreams

"Boss... with your permission, I’d like to offer a few suggestions. For tomorrow’s dinner at the Cresswells’."

Hades said nothing and simply sat on the couch. Which was, in this room, silent permission for Milo to continue.

Milo clasped his hands behind his back, stepping forward slightly. "Given tonight’s... emotional spectacle," he paused for comedic effect, then continued, "I believe it would be wise to employ a bit of proactive strategy with your wife. Emotionally speaking."

Hades’s expression didn’t change. "Explain."

"Well, Boss." Milo cleared his throat like a man carefully tiptoeing through a minefield of sleeping piranhas. "You’ve already made progress. While we are not sure what made her cry tonight, she do not seem like the type to cry easily especially in front of people. So... she’s vulnerable now, which means there’s a window to build... rapport. Trust. I suggest small gestures. Engage her in polite conversation at the Cresswells’. Compliment her, perhaps."

Hades arched one brow faintly at that word. Compliment. It seemed to stick in his throat like a particularly thorny fishbone.

Rowan muffled a chuckle, his gaze practically saying, ’Good luck getting him to do that. He probably thinks ’good job breathing’ is a compliment.’

Milo ignored him and pressed on. "She’s smart, surprisingly composed despite the situation she’s in, and frankly—" Milo hesitated briefly, carefully choosing his words "—a very beautiful woman."

Hades’s fingers, resting idly on the armrest, twitched ever so slightly.

Milo, emboldened, continued, completely oblivious to the tiny flicker that had just sparked. "From my professional observation and external analysis..." He folded his arms theatrically, speaking like a man delivering a highly confidential government report. "Hardy Cresswell might have a bit of interest in her."

At that, Hades’s jaw ticked almost imperceptibly, a tiny smirk appearing on his face.

Rowan nodded. "I mean, we can’t blame him for it. She’s smart. Handled your case effortlessly," he continued, as if stating obvious weather conditions. "Independent, sharp tongue, not easily intimidated even by you—which is rare. Not to mention she’s pretty—"

"Enough." Hades cut in flatly, his voice like a blade sliding across stone.

Rowan immediately stepped back, shutting his mouth immediately.

Clarisse finally spoke up, quietly. "We’re only suggesting this to... ease your long-term situation, Boss."

The team waited.

Hades’s icy gaze swept across them once more, unreadable, but unmistakably darker than before.

Then, very quietly, almost more to himself, he muttered, "She’s not pretty."

A collective beat of stunned silence followed that deeply unconvincing statement.

Clarisse blinked, exchanging a look with Gavin, who looked unbothered.

Rowan exhaled a silent breath through his nose as if physically restraining the sarcastic comment burning on his tongue, which likely involved a circus and a mirror.

Milo just... stood.

Without another word, Hades stood up, turned and left the group, his footsteps echoing as he took the stairs.

Once they heard the distant bang of his bedroom door, Rowan finally broke the silence.

"Not pretty," he repeated mockingly.

But Milo couldn’t help whispering under his breath with a sly grin, "He noticed."

*****

Alice’s stomach churned violently the entire night. Imagine being starved of proper meals for days, only to suddenly feast on meat and then a towering monument of ice cream. She felt like absolute shit, both literally and metaphorically. The thought of ringing for help made her stomach clench even tighter. She couldn’t call the keepers; if they cared even the slightest, they would immediately summon the estate doctor, and the last thing she wanted was more scrutiny or, worse, pity.

So, imagine after an endless struggle against nausea and anxiety, she finally managed to drift into a fitful sleep around 4 AM, only to be ambushed by a crazy dream.

She didn’t know where it came from, or what kind of deranged force possessed her subconscious—but it came anyway.

A sinful, shameless, traitorous dream.

One that proved, beyond all doubt, that she had officially lost her mind.

In the dream, she stood in the room of a grand medieval... palace? It did look like one of those.

Her body was wrapped in a flowing ivory gown, silk and pearls shimmering with every step like liquid moonlight. Candles flickered around her, casting warm golden glows that danced against ancient stone walls. Soft music — lutes, violins, and distant flutes — drifted through the air like whispers of forgotten ballads.

And then he appeared.

Hades.

But not the cold-blooded demon she knew.

This Hades was... different.

Regal. Commanding. Devastatingly beautiful.

He strode toward her in a tailored royal tunic of black and deep crimson, silver embroidery swirling across his chest like rivers of moonlight. A thick velvet cloak flowed behind him, fastened with a lion-shaped brooch that glinted under the firelight.

His hair was longer now—shoulder-length and snowy white, falling in soft, seductive waves that framed his angular face. And his eyes—those cursed eyes—red and blue swirled together like molten sapphires and rubies, burning through the darkness.

Everything else faded.

The world itself seemed to hold its breath as he approached.

"Princess," he whispered, voice rich and velvety, carrying a depth of affection that slammed into her chest like a battering ram.

Her lips parted, but no words emerged. She could only stare as his hand lifted, his fingertips brushing her cheek so gently she almost crumbled under the warmth of his touch.

"I have been waiting for you."

His gaze locked with hers, and for the first time ever—no coldness, no mockery. Just tenderness. Like this was who he truly was beneath all the layers of cruelty and walls of ice.

And then—he smiled.

A real, warm, breathtaking smile that nearly buckled her knees.

He leaned in—slowly, giving her time to pull away, but knowing she wouldn’t.

She didn’t.

Their lips met and he smiled into it.

His mouth was warm. Soft. His kiss gentle at first—then hungry. Possessive. Like he had waited lifetimes for this moment. He kissed her as if he wanted to brand her soul with it.

Her fingers tangled in the soft fabric of his tunic, holding on as his strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid frame. Her pulse screamed. Heat radiated through her, pooling low in her belly. She whimpered into his mouth as his hand slid to the back of her head, angling her perfectly as his tongue swept past her lips, deepening the kiss until she was drunk on him.

Her legs lifted, instinctively wrapping around his waist as he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back into the marble column behind them. His mouth trailed down her jaw, nipping, teasing, until his lips found the sensitive spot on her neck.

"My queen," he breathed against her skin, voice low, thick, and hungry just before he sank his teeth into her neck.

Her head dropped back with a desperate moan as the fire in her veins threatened to explode.

She wanted more. She needed—

"AAARRGGHHHH!!"

Alice shot up in bed like she’d been electrocuted.

Her chest heaved as her wide and wild eyes scanned the room, sweat clinging to her skin like glue. Her tangled sheets wrapped around her like some desperate attempt to imprison her scandalous body. Her nightgown stuck to her damp skin, clinging in all the wrong places.

Her hands flew to her face.

"Oh my God. No. NO NO NO NO NO—"

Her scream ricocheted through the cavernous bedroom. She shuddered, mortified.

She?

PRINCESS?

QUEEN?

She gagged dramatically, shaking her head like she could physically dislodge the memory. "EW. EWWWWW."

"I am INSANE!" she screamed into her hands, her voice muffled but no less hysterical. "I’ve lost my mind. Oh my god, I’ve lost my mind!"

She launched herself out of bed, stumbling as she untangled her legs from the sheets. Her entire body ached with leftover sensations from that dream.

And worst of all—

She glanced down.

She practically tore open the water jug on her table and gulped down two full glasses like a woman dying in the desert.

It didn’t help.

She rubbed her neck like she could scrub away the phantom feel of his lips and bite.

She must really want to die.

Because if real Hades ever found out about this—

She’d have to throw herself off the nearest cliff before he did so himself.

This dream was absolutely 1000% DELUSIONAL! Worse than any novel she had written. She didn’t even write things like that! May-be?

She slapped herself—smack!—both cheeks.

"This is NOT okay. This is not even close to okay!"

Her stomach somersaulted as flashes of his mouth on her neck played in her mind again.

She screeched, practically tearing at her hair.

"GET. A. GRIP!!!" she bellowed at herself.

Still reeling, she stumbled into the bathroom. Only one solution remained.

Cold shower.

The faucet screeched as she cranked it to the coldest setting. The water blasted out, pelting her skin like ice daggers. She stepped directly under the freezing cascade, her teeth chattering as the shock blasted through her nervous system.

"STUPID DREAM!" she hissed, fists clenched under the freezing water. "STUPID HADES! STUPID STUPID STUPID—"

The water couldn’t wash it away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but she could still feel him. His hands. His breath. His voice—

"My queen."

Her body shuddered violently.

"AAAAARRRGGHHH!!"

She dunked her head straight under the waterfall, screaming into the pounding stream.

Her chest heaved. Her skin burned and froze at once.

This wasn’t just embarrassing.

This was catastrophic.

How... would she ever face him?