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 4
The glowing blue tattoo on Cora's collarbone slowly faded into her skin. She rubbed the spot, the skin still hot to the touch. She took a deep breath, deciding to shatter the heavy silence in the cave.
She looked at Dax, who was adjusting the fur pelt around his waist. She kept her voice as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. "Since we're officially contracted partners now, there's something you need to know."
Dax stopped moving. He turned to face her, his ice-blue eyes entirely focused on her face. His female was about to give him a command. He was ready to obey. "What is it?"
Cora's hands instinctively dropped to her flat stomach. Her throat tightened. "I'm... pregnant. With triplets."
The words sucked all the oxygen out of the cave. Dax's massive body locked up. It was as if someone had driven a steel spike through his spine.
His pupils dilated wildly. His gaze dropped to her stomach, his brain misfiring as it tried to process the information.
In the wasteland, conception was a miracle. Triplets were a myth. More importantly, last night was their first time. There was absolutely no way she could know she was pregnant from him this fast. His female was carrying cubs—and he had not fathered them.
Dax's mind raced down a dark, twisted path. He reached the only logical conclusion his wasteland brain could form: She was already pregnant before they met. His female had another male before him. A male who should have been her first husband.
The image burned into his mind. A fragile, pregnant Cora, abandoned by some worthless male, left to freeze to death in the snow. A male who had failed in the most fundamental duty—protecting his female. That was why she was so desperate for a protector. That was why she forced the contract. She had been betrayed by the male who should have knelt at her feet.
A wave of pure, homicidal rage erupted in Dax's chest. The muscles in his arms bulged, his veins pressing against his skin. The fury wasn't directed at Cora. It was directed at the phantom male who had left her to die. Any male who abandoned his female deserved a slow, agonizing death.
He closed the distance between them in one stride. His large hands gripped her shoulders. His grip was tight, his knuckles turning white. His voice was a low, terrifying snarl. "Who is the bastard?! Tell me his name so I can tear him apart! "
Cora flinched, startled by the sudden explosion of violence. She stared at him, completely lost. "Huh? What bastard?"
Dax saw the confusion in her eyes. To him, it looked like the dazed trauma of a broken heart. His female had been wounded by a worthless male. It was his duty now to heal that wound. A fierce, overwhelming wave of protectiveness crushed his anger.
He loosened his grip instantly. He pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a crushing hug. His large hand stroked her hair. "Don't be afraid. I'm here now. I will be the husband he failed to be. No one will ever hurt you or the cubs again. These children will be mine to protect."
Cora's cheek was smashed against his pectoral muscle. She listened to his fierce, solemn vow, and her brain finally caught up to his logic. He thought she was carrying her ex's babies. He thought he was stepping into another male's place—and he was embracing it with absolute devotion.
She opened her mouth to tell him the truth. But the words died on her tongue. How could she explain the system? How could she explain a twenty-four-hour forced pregnancy? She would sound completely insane.
Cora snapped her mouth shut. She chose the path of least resistance. She let out a soft, pathetic sigh and buried her face deeper into his chest, playing the role of the tragic victim. Let him believe what he wanted. His protectiveness was useful.
System prompt: Host's deception tactics have a 98% success rate on males of this intelligence level, the mechanical voice chimed in her head. Cora mentally crushed the system's voice.
A glowing interface popped up in her vision. Hidden Objective Completed: Confess Pregnancy. Reward: 50 Survival Points. New Quest Unlocked: Expand Household. Additional husbands required for optimal cub development.
Cora read the system prompt. Survival points could be exchanged for Old World supplies. She also quickly scanned the biological data. As a rabbit-mutant, her gestation period was terrifyingly short. The system wanted her to find more husbands. More males to protect and provide. The thought was still strange, but in this world, it was as natural as breathing.
Her stomach let out a loud, embarrassing rumble, shattering the dramatic tension.
Dax pulled back immediately. His face was dead serious. "You need to eat. Stay right here. I'm going to hunt. A husband who cannot feed his pregnant female is worthless. "
Without waiting for a reply, he turned, shifted into the giant white fox, and bolted out of the cave into the snowstorm. He was a male on a mission to provide for his tragic little female.
The second he was gone, Cora opened the system store. She spent her 50 points immediately.
A flash of light illuminated the cave. A steaming, hot paper bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup appeared in her hands.
The rich, salty aroma of chicken broth and herbs filled the damp cave. Cora's eyes watered. It was the smell of the modern world.
She grabbed the plastic fork and shoved the noodles into her mouth. She ate like a starving animal. The scalding broth burned her tongue, but she didn't care. The warmth spread down her throat, thawing the ice in her veins.
She swallowed the last drop of soup and let out a loud burp. A warm, pulsing energy settled in her lower abdomen.
Nutrients successfully converted for fetal development, the system chimed. Host stamina restored to 60%. First husband's hunting efforts will supplement future caloric needs.
Cora quickly tossed the empty bowl and fork into the system's digital incinerator. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, slumped against the stone wall, and arranged her face into an expression of weak exhaustion, waiting for Dax to return. Her first husband was hunting for her. It was a strange, warm thought. In her old world, she had been alone. Here, males competed to serve. The difference was staggering.
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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.