Bound By Contract To The Beast Warlord
I woke up in a freezing, desolate wasteland, my body weak and covered in sores. A mechanical voice in my head informed me that I was a defective rabbit-mutant, and if I didn't conceive within twenty-four hours, I would die permanently.
The terror was suffocating, but the system left me no choice. To survive the brutal cold and the decay of my own heartbeat, I had to force a pregnancy with a stranger.
I stumbled through the snow, my fingers turning blue, until I found a massive, wounded Arctic Fox-mutant in a dark cave. He was a Tier-9 predator, dying and radiating the exact heat I needed to stay alive. I threw away my dignity, crawling into his fur to merge our energies, desperate to trigger the life-reset protocol before my time ran out.
I felt like a monster, forcing myself onto a man who didn't even know I existed, just to keep my own heart beating. How could I ever face him if he woke up? Why did I have to be the one to pay the price for this twisted, mechanical ultimatum?
The fusion was a success, but when I woke up the next morning, the apex predator had me pinned under his massive claws, his fangs inches from my throat. I didn't beg for mercy. I stared into his feral, ice-blue eyes and made a deal that would change everything: I would be his anchor, and he would be my protector. But then I dropped the final, terrifying truth: I was pregnant, and he was the only one who could save us.
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Chapter 2
The howling wind outside the cave ripped Cora from her sleep.
She snapped her eyes open. Her body ached, a deep soreness settling into her hips and lower back. She looked down. Dax's heavy, muscular arm was still locked tightly around her waist. Her male had not let go, even in sleep. His body remained vigilant, guarding his female.
She held her breath. Moving inch by inch, she slid out from under his crushing grip. She moved like a ghost, terrified of waking the apex predator sleeping beside her.
Cora stood up. She pressed a hand to her lower back and stretched. In her mind, she called out to Kay Lake.
Open the Beginner Survival Pack.
A transparent blue screen materialized in front of her. She reached out and selected a small vial of Basic Cellular Healing Fluid. It was the most valuable medical item in the pack.
She looked down at Dax. His brow was covered in sweat. His chest heaved with rapid, uneven breaths. The fever was burning him alive. He had saved her life last night, even if he didn't know it. He had served his purpose perfectly. Now it was her duty as his female to ensure he survived. She owed him.
Cora knelt beside him. She pinched his strong jaw, forcing his mouth open. She carefully tipped the vial, letting the blue liquid drip onto his tongue. Almost instantly, the deep lines of pain on his forehead smoothed out. His breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. She let out a long breath.
A loud, hollow growl echoed in the cave.
Cora clutched her stomach. Acid churned in her gut. The healing process had consumed massive amounts of calories. If she didn't eat right now, she was going to pass out.
She grabbed Dax's discarded, blood-stained fur coat and draped it over his naked body. She picked up a sharp, jagged tree branch from the cave floor. Gripping it tightly, she crept out of the cave and into the freezing wasteland.
The biting wind slapped her face. Cora shivered violently. Relying on the rabbit-mutant's natural instincts, she dropped to her knees. She began digging frantically through the hard-packed snow, searching for cold-resistant tubers.
Thirty minutes passed. Her fingernails cracked and bled, staining the snow red. Finally, her fingers brushed against something hard. She pulled out three shriveled snow-potatoes. She shoved them into her torn pockets, her heart leaping with relief.
She stood up to keep searching.
A wet, sickening crunching sound drifted from behind a nearby snowbank.
Cora dropped flat onto her stomach. She held her breath and peered through a gap in the dead, frozen brush.
A mutated scavenger fox was tearing into the rotting carcass of a beast. Its fur was patchy, exposing skin covered in oozing, yellow blisters.
Suddenly, the scavenger stopped chewing. Its mangled nose twitched. It caught the scent of fresh blood dripping from Cora's torn cuticles.
The beast snapped its head around. Bloodshot, yellow eyes locked directly onto Cora's hiding spot. It let out a high-pitched, screeching roar and lunged.
Cora's heart slammed against her ribs. Adrenaline flooded her veins. She scrambled to her feet, clutching her pockets, and ran. The rabbit-mutant's agility kicked in, her legs pumping with terrifying speed.
The scavenger fox was right behind her. Its foul breath washed over her calves. Sharp claws swiped at her ankles, tearing the fabric of her pants and grazing her skin. She stumbled, nearly eating the snow.
Cora spotted a narrow fissure between two massive boulders. She threw herself sideways, sliding hard on the ice, and wedged her body into the crack just as the fox snapped its jaws where her leg had been.
The scavenger slammed into the rocks. Its massive body was too wide to fit. It roared in fury, thrashing and clawing at the stone. Loose gravel rained down on Cora's head.
Cora didn't freeze. She gripped the sharpened tree branch with both hands. She aimed straight for the gap. When the fox shoved its hideous face into the opening, she drove the branch forward with all her weight.
The jagged wood pierced the fox's yellow eye.
The beast let out an ear-piercing shriek. Blood sprayed across the snow as it yanked its head back, thrashing in agony.
Cora didn't wait. She scrambled out the other side of the fissure, slipping and sliding on the ice, and sprinted back to the cave like her life depended on it.
She threw herself into the dark cave, collapsing onto the stone floor. She gasped for air, her lungs burning. Her clothes were soaked in freezing sweat and melted snow. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
She looked up. Dax was no longer a man. He had shifted back into the giant white fox. His breathing was deep and even. The healing fluid had stabilized him.
The cold was seeping into her bones, threatening to stop her heart. Fear vanished under the crushing need for heat. Cora crawled across the floor. She lifted the massive, heavy flap of his white belly fur and shoved herself underneath it. Her male's body was her shelter. This was his duty, and she claimed it without shame.
The heat radiating from his skin was like a blazing furnace. Cora let out a long, shuddering sigh. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her snow-potatoes to her chest, and let the exhaustion pull her under.
Hours passed. The faint light of dawn crept into the cave.
The giant white fox's ear twitched.
Dax slowly opened his ice-blue eyes. His brain was clouded with sleep and the lingering fog of his injuries. Instantly, his senses flared. There was a soft, foreign weight pressed directly against his vulnerable underbelly.
The apex predator's instinct hijacked his brain. A foolish, suicidal prey animal had snuck up on him while he was unconscious.
Dax moved with terrifying speed. He rolled over, his massive paw slamming down. He pinned the sleeping Cora to the stone floor. His razor-sharp claws pierced the fabric of her shirt, pressing directly against the fragile skin of her throat.
Cora woke up to a crushing weight and a sharp, stinging pain in her neck. She opened her eyes.
She was staring straight into a pair of feral, ice-blue, slit pupils. Pure, unadulterated killing intent rolled off the beast.
Dax stared down at the tiny prey trapped under his claws. She smelled like dirt, blood, and something incredibly sweet. A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest. He opened his massive jaws, exposing rows of deadly fangs, preparing to bite her head off for his first meal.
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9.1
My family and fiancé begged me to donate my last remaining kidney to my twin sister, Kyleigh. They didn't know I was already dying.
My fiancé, Axel, gave me an ultimatum.
"Donate the kidney, or I'll break our engagement and marry Kyleigh. It's her dying wish."
I agreed, only for them to frame me for plagiarism with my own thesis, forcing me to confess on camera. They never knew I was the one who secretly saved our father with my other kidney five years ago-a sacrifice Kyleigh had stolen all the credit for.
As they wheeled me into the operating room, they celebrated with Kyleigh, promising her a future built on my death. I was already a ghost to them.
But I died on the table. The surgeon, seeing the old surgical scar and the poison riddling my body, walked out to face them.
"This wasn't a donation," she announced, her voice cold as steel. "This was murder."
9.3
She thought their love could survive anything. She was wrong.
For five years, Amara Hayes was the perfect wife - loyal, gentle, and endlessly forgiving. She believed her husband, Ethan Blackwell, when he said his late nights were for business. She trusted him when he swore his heart was hers.
Until the night she walked into his office and saw him making love to another woman.
Humiliated, heartbroken, and betrayed, Amara left without a word - leaving behind her wedding ring, her identity, and the man who destroyed her faith in love.
Three years later, she returns to New York as a powerful businesswoman with a new name and a cold smile. She's no longer the naive wife he controlled - she's his rival, his downfall, and his punishment.
But Ethan isn't the same man either. He's haunted by the woman he lost and desperate for redemption. And when fate throws them together again, old flames reignite amid a storm of revenge, pain, and forbidden desire.
He once broke her heart. Now, she'll make him wish he never did.
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
9.3
Ginny was chained to a concrete pillar in an abandoned warehouse, bleeding and betrayed by the two people she trusted most.
Her fiancé, Brant, and her adopted sister, Coretta, had just slashed her face open. Brant coldly admitted she was nothing but a disposable key to a vault, right before he tossed a lighter onto the gasoline-soaked floor.
As Ginny burned alive in the roaring inferno, the heavy iron doors were violently smashed open. Bedford Parks—the notoriously ruthless, germaphobic "monster" of Silicon Valley whom Ginny had always feared—charged straight into the flames. Ignoring the blistering heat, he shielded her charred body with his own. A massive steel beam collapsed, snapping his spine.
"I love you."
He coughed up blood, whispering his final words against her blackened skin before dying to protect her.
Hovering as a ghost, Ginny's soul screamed in agonizing realization. She had spent her life terrified of Bedford, yet he was the only one who truly loved her, while her supposed family laughed at her gruesome murder.
Suddenly, a blinding white light swallowed the warehouse.
Ginny gasped for air, opening her eyes to find herself sitting in the back of a luxury Maybach. She was eighteen again, wearing the humiliating clown makeup Coretta had tricked her into wearing on the day she was brought back to the wealthy Steele estate.
Ginny stared at her reflection, her dark eyes turning cold and sharp.
This time, she would tear her betrayers apart piece by piece, and she would protect her "monster."
8.9
I died in the apocalypse, only to wake up as Kenzie Banks, a bankrupt high-society monster in an interstellar beast-world.
But before I could even process my new reality, a cold AI voice informed me of my impending death.
"Your contract beast-husbands possess the legal right to execute you at the end of the two-month trial period."
I rushed to the basement and saw the horrific truth. The original Kenzie had starved them, whipped them with thermal blades, sent their brothers to die as cannon fodder, and framed the youngest to rot in a maximum-security prison.
Now, these lethal, broken men were methodically planning to rip my organs out the second the contract dissolved. To make matters worse, she had squandered her fortune on a man who despised her, leaving me two million credits in debt and facing imminent exile to the deadly wastelands.
I had survived rotting zombies on Earth, only to be trapped in a weak, universally hated body, doomed to be butchered by the very people I was supposed to call family. Why did I have to pay the ultimate price for a psychotic woman's deadly sins?
I refused to just sit around and wait for my execution.
Tapping into my apocalyptic subspace inventory, I hauled out military-grade rations, healed their bleeding wounds, and slammed a legally binding divorce contract on the table.
If I wanted to survive this sixty-day countdown, I had to turn my executioners into my loyal allies—starting with breaking the husband she framed out of prison.
9.2
Celestia woke up heavily sedated, her wrists bound tightly to the legs of a grand piano in a cold, opulent room.
Before she could even process the panic, a towering billionaire named Sterling Sinclair IV stepped in, looking at her like a possessed piece of art.
The head maid then handed Celestia a thick surrogacy contract with her perfectly forged signature.
"You are here to bear an heir for Mr. Sinclair," the maid stated flatly.
Celestia screamed that they had the wrong person, but her desperate cries bounced uselessly off the soundproof walls.
Stripped of her clothes, phone, and identity, she was trapped on an isolated island surrounded by high-voltage electric fences and armed guards.
When she furiously fought back, Sterling physically overpowered her, punishing her resistance with brutal, terrifying dominance until she lost consciousness on the marble floor.
She didn't understand who had kidnapped her from her normal life.
Why was her biometric data perfectly faked in a classified dossier?
Who had framed her as a willing, ten-million-dollar premium product for a ruthless billionaire?
Driven by pure survival, Celestia began aggressively consuming raw garlic and bathing in harsh white vinegar to destroy her fertility and repel his touch.
And when Sterling finally reviewed her bizarre, self-sabotaging dietary logs, the terrifying truth hit his calculating mind like a physical blow.
The broken, innocent woman he had been brutally tormenting all week was never his hired surrogate.