Branded By The Devil's Cruel Kiss
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
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Chapter 5
The heavy mahogany doors swung open. Elie stepped into the room. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps. Her toes throbbed in the tight heels. Her movements were stiff, mechanical.
The VIP suite was massive. The lights were dimmed to a sultry, dark amber. The air was thick and heavy, suffocating her with the smell of expensive cigars, spilled alcohol, and cheap, overpowering perfume.
Davin pulled the doors shut behind her. The soft click of the lock engaging severed her last connection to the outside world.
Elie's eyes scanned the room. In the center sat a massive, U-shaped leather sofa.
Right in the middle of the sofa sat Mortimer Finch. He was a heavily overweight man with thinning hair and a flushed, sweaty face.
But what made the blood freeze in Elie's veins was the man sitting on the single armchair to the right.
Ebert Ewing.
He was already there. He held a martini glass in his hand, his legs crossed, his expression completely bored and detached.
Mortimer's eyes snapped toward the door. His gaze locked onto Elie. His eyes crawled over the thin red silk clinging to her curves, lingering on the expanse of her bare skin. It was the look of a starving predator.
Then, Mortimer's eyes landed on her neck. He saw the angry, purple-red hickey.
Mortimer's thick eyebrows shot up. A greasy, highly suggestive smile spread across his face.
"Mr. Ewing," Mortimer laughed loudly, his voice grating. "The 'gift' you brought me is absolutely exquisite. And the packaging... very kinky. I like it."
Ebert slowly swirled the clear liquid in his martini glass. He didn't even look at Elie.
"As long as Mr. Finch is pleased," Ebert said, his voice flat and businesslike. "I trust the Series C funding will proceed without any further delays."
Hearing herself being traded like a piece of meat for a corporate funding round made Elie's stomach violently cramp. She felt physically sick. Her fingernails dug deeper into the bleeding crescents in her palms.
Mortimer patted the empty leather cushion right next to his thick thigh.
"Come here, sweetheart. Sit next to me," Mortimer commanded, his voice dripping with lust.
Elie's legs felt like they were made of lead. She couldn't move. She turned her head and looked at Ebert. Her eyes were wide, silently begging him. Please. Don't do this.
Ebert took a slow sip of his martini. He deliberately looked away, staring at the wall. He completely ignored her plea.
The last shred of hope died inside Elie. She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. She forced her leaden legs to move. She walked over and sat down stiffly on the very edge of the cushion next to Mortimer.
The second she sat down, Mortimer's large, sweaty hand clamped down heavily onto her bare thigh.
Elie flinched violently. She instinctively jerked her body away from him.
But Mortimer's other arm shot out, wrapping around her narrow waist. He yanked her hard against his side, pinning her against his bulky body.
The overpowering stench of his cologne mixed with the smell of stale alcohol and bad breath hit Elie's face. She held her breath, fighting the intense, physical urge to vomit.
Sitting across from them, Ebert watched Mortimer's arm wrap around Elie's waist. The fingers holding his martini glass tightened abruptly. His knuckles turned stark white against the crystal.
But his face remained a perfect, frozen mask of indifference. He made no move to stop it.
Mortimer picked up a glass filled to the brim with straight, high-proof vodka from the table. He shoved it directly against Elie's lips.
"Drink it," Mortimer ordered.
Elie turned her head away, pressing her lips tightly together. "I... I don't drink," she managed to say.
Mortimer's greasy smile vanished. He grabbed her chin roughly, his thick fingers digging into her jawbone.
"If you don't drink, you're disrespecting Mr. Ewing," Mortimer threatened.
Elie's eyes darted to Ebert.
Ebert stared at her with dead eyes. "Drink it," he commanded coldly.
Those two words were the final blow. They shattered whatever was left of her soul. A look of absolute, dead resignation washed over her eyes.
Elie took the glass from Mortimer's hand. She tilted her head back and downed the entire glass of straight vodka in one go.
The liquid was like liquid fire. It burned a path down her throat and exploded in her empty stomach.
Elie immediately began to cough violently. The harsh coughing racked her small frame. Tears sprang to her eyes, turning the edges of her eyes a painful, bright red.
Mortimer threw his head back and laughed. Taking advantage of her coughing fit, he slid his sweaty hand higher up her thigh, his fingers moving dangerously close to the edge of the silk dress.
Elie's body shook like a leaf in a hurricane. She slammed her hand down, grabbing Mortimer's thick wrist to stop his hand. She was panting heavily.
She forced her head up. Her eyes were bloodshot and watering.
"Excuse me," she choked out, her voice raspy and broken. "I need to use the restroom."
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9.3
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
9.3
The first sign I was going to die wasn't the blizzard. It wasn't the bone-deep cold. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my life's work-our only guarantee of survival-to another woman.
"Kelsi was freezing," he said, as if I were being unreasonable. "You're the expert, you can handle it."
He then took my satellite phone, shoved me into a hastily dug snow pit, and left me to die.
His new girlfriend, Kelsi, appeared, wrapped snugly in my shimmering smart blanket. She smiled as she used my own ice axe to slash my suit, my last layer of protection against the storm.
"Stop being so dramatic," he told me, his voice full of contempt as I lay there freezing to death.
They thought they had taken everything. They thought they had won.
But they didn't know about the secret emergency beacon I had stitched into my sleeve. And with my last ounce of strength, I activated it.
7.1
The captain is dead to the world. And I'm the only one holding the kill switch.
Ethan Carter, the "Glacier of Silvercrest," was the most feared Alpha to ever step onto the ice. Now, he's nothing but a shell-a broken, comatose legend trapped in his own body.
My life? It was supposed to be simple. Graduate, survive the pack's bottom-tier status, and pay off my father's ruinous blood-debts. Instead, the pack elders handed me a contract soaked in cold, hard malice: I am the designated "Stabilizer." My only job is to touch him, scent him, and keep his wolf from flatlining.
I thought I was just a glorified nurse. I didn't realize the Alpha was listening.
When Ethan finally wakes, he isn't the hero the Kingdom of Valeria remembers. He's a starving predator with amber eyes that burn holes through my defenses and a temperament that makes the frost in the mansion seem warm. He hates the bargain, he hates the pack, and-most dangerously-he hates the way his scent turns wild whenever I'm near.
He wants me out of his sight. I want to be out of his reach.
But in a pack built on secrets, someone is still trying to finish the job they started on his life. Now, the man who wants me gone is the only one who can protect me. And as the rink turns into a battlefield, I'm realizing the most dangerous thing about the Alpha isn't his temper... it's the fact that once he claims a mate, he doesn't know how to let go.
Frozen hearts are meant to shatter. But in the fire of this pack, we're both going to burn.
9.5
He was born from the void between stars - a being of immense power, forged from cosmic origins.
For thousands of years, he walked among humanity, protecting them and keeping his true strength hidden. After losing the only family he had, grief led him to seek his own end... only to wake up in a world entirely unlike his own.
Here, cultivation is the main path to power. Those who master spirit qi gain superhuman strength, speed, and abilities that place them far above ordinary people. Four great sects rule the land, competing for resources, secrets, and dominance over each other.
Icaros joined the Li Sect, where he found companions he came to trust and care for: the capable and easygoing Li Han, the sharp and composed Su Yan, and the spirited Nelly. For a time, he felt he had found a place to belong, even as he kept his true nature hidden and wondered whether he could ever learn to cultivate like those around him.
Everything changed when their voyage was suddenly attacked. A powerful figure floating in the sky cut their ship apart with sharp, devastating energy strikes, leaving only destruction in his wake. Believing his friends had been lost in the disaster, Icaros chose to stop holding back any longer.
> "I am done hiding!"
He unleashed his full power: golden light blazed from his eyes, he flew at incredible speed, and he broke through every barrier and enemy in his way. On the shores ahead, he tore through hordes of powerful jade monsters, destroying them completely before flying deep into the interior of the island.
Meanwhile, survivors washed up scattered and alone. One young cultivator found himself on the shores of Jade Island - a place most cultivators avoid, as it holds no treasures or useful materials, only danger and endless deposits of ordinary jade. Yet despite the risks, ordinary people have built settlements here, finding safety from the conflicts and power struggles of the outside world.
This island works by different rules. Spirit qi is scarce and unstable, making cultivation far less effective than elsewhere. Instead, the people here rely on advanced technology - weapons and explosives that can injure or even defeat those with great physical strength. Here, skill and preparation can be just as powerful as raw strength, and even the strongest cultivators must move with caution.
Now, Icaros has vanished deep into the island. His companions are lost somewhere across this dangerous land. And the mysterious swordsman who destroyed their ship has already arrived here, searching for an ancient map said to lead to the legacy of a being from another world.
Will they find each other again? And can anyone survive in a place where the usual rules of power no longer hold true?
✅ Chapters 1–19: FREE
🔒 Chapters 20 onwards: PAID
(Continue the journey of power, friendship, and discovery!)
9.7
Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire.
But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men.
Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her.
Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped.
Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust.
"If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector."
Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell.
She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100?
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.
8.0
Twenty-one-year-old Hazel has always lived in a safe, comfortable bubble, meticulously guarded by her fiercely protective older brother. Her life is predictable, quiet, and perfectly ordinary. Until he steps into it.
Silas is twenty-four, dangerously captivating, and her brother's best friend. He brings with him an aura of dark secrets, ink-stained skin, and a predatory gaze that strips away all her carefully built defenses. He is everything she has been taught to avoid, yet living under the same roof makes him impossible to escape.
What starts as a temporary living arrangement quickly spirals into a suffocating web of stolen glances, unspoken desires, and a dangerous obsession. Silas isn't just looking for a place to crash; he's looking at her. And once he pins her in his sights, the thorns of their forbidden attraction will bind them together in ways that could destroy them both.
In a house where walls have ears and her brother is always watching, giving in to the madness is a risk. But Silas is a temptation she might not survive.