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 6
Cora lay flat against the broad back of the giant white fox. Her fingers were buried deep in the thick, coarse fur around his neck, gripping tight as his massive muscles bunched and released beneath her.
The freezing wind screamed past her ears, but Dax's body radiated a blistering heat that formed a physical shield around her. The cold couldn't touch her. Her husband's body was her armor. This was his purpose.
She peeked out from the heavy fur coat, staring at the endless, blinding white of the wasteland.
In her mind, she commanded Kay Lake to pull up the data on the world's power structure.
Mutants absorb beast cores to level up, the system explained. Tiers 1 to 3 are the bottom feeders. Tiers 4 to 6 are elite warriors. Tier 7 and above are apex warlords. Females naturally ascend faster due to biological superiority in energy absorption. Males require female anchors to stabilize their advancement.
Cora swallowed hard. The beast she was riding was Tier-9. He was a walking weapon of mass destruction. And he belonged to her. The realization sent a thrill of absolute safety through her chest.
Suddenly, the white fox slammed on the brakes. His massive paws dug into the ice. His ears pinned back flat against his skull, and a low, vibrating snarl ripped from his throat. A threat to his female. He would annihilate it.
Cora followed his gaze. Thirty yards ahead, the snow exploded upward.
Thick, black vines, as wide as tree trunks, erupted from the frozen ground. They whipped through the air, covered in razor-sharp thorns.
Warning, the system blared. Tier-4 mutant flora detected. Strangler Vine. Highly aggressive.
The Strangler Vine sensed their body heat. It whipped forward like a nest of striking snakes, aiming straight for the fox and the woman on his back.
Cora gasped, her heart jumping into her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Dax's fur. Her husband would protect her. He had to.
Dax didn't even bother to dodge. A flash of pure, arrogant disdain crossed his ice-blue eyes. This pathetic plant dared to threaten his pregnant female?
He opened his massive jaws. A torrent of blinding, blue fire erupted from his throat. The flames hit the black vines like a physical wall.
BOOM.
The impact shook the ground. The moment the blue fire touched the vines, they incinerated. The air filled with the sickening stench of burning sap and ash.
The Tier-4 predator didn't even have time to scream. It was reduced to a pile of smoking black dust in less than two seconds.
Cora opened her eyes. She stared at the scorched, empty crater in the snow. Her jaw dropped. It was a total, effortless slaughter. Her male was a monster. Her monster.
The white fox turned his head slightly, catching her eye. He let out a soft huff, his tail flicking proudly, seeking his female's approval. Then he resumed his steady pace.
Cora couldn't help it. She patted his thick neck vigorously. "Dax, that was incredible! You are a worthy first husband. "
The tips of the fox's ears turned a distinct shade of pink. His female had praised him. His pace quickened, his paws barely leaving prints in the snow as he bounded forward. He would earn more of her praise.
Hours later, the snowstorm finally broke. On the horizon, a sprawling cluster of crude stone huts and heavy wooden palisades appeared.
Cora's chest tightened. She pointed a finger toward the walls. "Look! That's it. The Hickman Settlement!"
The fox slowed to a halt. His eyes darkened. He could smell the stench of hundreds of weak, pathetic males inside those walls. Males who might try to take his place. Males who might be the bastard who abandoned his female.
He shifted. The giant beast vanished, and Dax caught Cora in his arms before she could hit the ground. He set her on her feet, pulling the fur coat tight around her neck.
His face was a mask of lethal seriousness. "When we go in, you stay right beside me. Do not leave my sight. Any male who approaches without my permission dies. "
Cora looked at his tense jaw. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was preparing to go to war with her imaginary ex-boyfriend. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.
She nodded obediently and reached out, sliding her small hand into his massive, calloused palm. "Don't worry. I'm not scared with you here. You are my first husband. They will respect that. "
Dax's fingers clamped down on hers, locking their hands together. He pulled her flush against his side and marched toward the settlement gates. His female was entering her domain. He would be the sword at her side.
Two rabbit-mutant guards stood shivering by the heavy wooden doors. When they saw the towering, terrifying man approaching, they panicked and raised their bone-tipped spears.
Then, one of the guards locked eyes with Cora. His jaw dropped open. He rubbed his eyes frantically. "Cora?! You... you're not dead?!"
Cora lifted her chin. A sharp, confident smile crossed her face. She was a female returning to claim her place. "I'm not dead. And I brought a plus-one. My first husband. Open the gate."
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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.