Claimed By The Exiled Tiger King
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
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Chapter 2
The moment Abigail stepped under the canopy of the forest, the world changed. The oppressive heat of the pyre was instantly replaced by a damp, chilling cold. Sunlight vanished, blocked by a ceiling of leaves so vast that a single one could have served as an umbrella. The scale of everything was wrong, monstrous.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot up her leg from the burns. She gritted her teeth, tore a long strip from the hem of her already ruined tunic, and knelt to bind it tightly around the worst of the injury. It was a crude bandage, but it would have to do to stop the bleeding and keep the dirt out.
Her stomach cramped violently, a hollow ache that reminded her of the brutal truth: before she could find food for a tribe, she had to find it for herself. She was running on nothing but adrenaline and pain.
She pushed deeper into the woods, her small, multi-tool scalpel-the only piece of tech that had miraculously survived in her pocket-serving as a makeshift machete to cut through thorny vines. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and strange, alien blossoms.
Then she caught it. A subtle shift in the soil to her right, a particular softness to the earth, accompanied by a faint, slightly bitter scent that was achingly familiar.
She dropped to her knees, pushing aside a thick carpet of decaying leaves. There, sprawling across the ground, was a plant with heart-shaped leaves and creeping vines.
Her internal bio-database, a repository of xenobotanical knowledge from a hundred surveyed worlds, flashed with a match. It was a variant. A wild, overgrown cousin of Solanum tuberosum. A potato.
A surge of pure, unadulterated joy shot through her. It was so intense it almost brought her to her knees. These things, if they were like their Earth counterparts, were packed with starch. They grew in abundance. They could feed an army.
She began to dig, clawing at the rich, dark soil with her bare hands, the scalpel a clumsy shovel. Dirt packed under her nails, but she didn't care. The promise of calories, of survival, was all that mattered.
About a foot down, her fingers hit something solid and coarse. She worked it loose, pulling with all her might, and unearthed a tuber the size of a football. Its skin was rough and brown.
With a trembling hand, she used the scalpel to slice off a small piece. She sniffed it, then cautiously placed it in her mouth. The taste was clean, earthy, with a distinct starchy sweetness. No bitterness. No alkaloids. It was safe.
Tears of relief pricked her eyes.
To prove the yield, she followed the vine, digging with a frenzied energy. In less than half an hour, she had excavated more than a dozen of the massive tubers from a small patch of land. This was it. This was the miracle she had promised.
As she was excitedly bundling them together with a tough vine, a sound cut through the forest quiet. A low, heavy breathing, coming from the bushes just behind her.
Every muscle in Abigail's body went rigid. The hair on her arms stood on end. Slowly, deliberately, she turned her head.
Two blood-red eyes stared back at her from the shadows.
A beast emerged, a boar of impossible size, as large as a small car. Vicious tusks, long and yellowed, curled from its snout, dripping a foul-smelling saliva. It pawed at the ground, a low growl rumbling in its massive chest. It saw her as an intruder. As prey.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Don't run. The first rule of wilderness survival. You can't outrun a predator.
Her hand closed around the sharpest rock she could find on the ground. Her other hand tightened its grip on the pathetically small scalpel. She backed up against the trunk of a giant tree, creating a defensive position.
The boar let out a deafening squeal and charged.
Its bulk was terrifying, a runaway tank of muscle and fury. At the last possible second, Abigail threw herself to the left, rolling hard across the forest floor. The boar's tusks missed her by an inch, slamming into the tree with a sickening crunch.
The impact shook the entire tree. Wood splinters flew. A searing pain flared across Abigail's shoulder where one of the tusks had grazed her, tearing fabric and skin.
The boar shook its head, momentarily dazed, then turned, its red eyes locking onto her again. It lowered its head for a second, fatal charge.
Abigail scrambled to get up, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot through her ankle. It had twisted in the fall. She collapsed back to the ground. A wave of cold, absolute despair washed over her.
The boar charged again, its gaping mouth a blur of teeth and fury. The stench of its breath hit her like a physical blow. Instinctively, she threw her arms up to shield her head and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the end.
A shadow fell over her.
It wasn't the boar. It was something from above. A massive, black-and-yellow shape that dropped from the tree canopy like a bolt of lightning.
A roar shattered the air, a sound so powerful it felt like it could crack bone. The shape, a predator of immense size, slammed into the boar's back, driving it to the ground with bone-crushing force.
The sickening snap of the boar's spine echoed through the silent forest, followed by a final, gurgling cry. Then, silence.
Abigail, trembling, slowly opened her eyes. Through the gaps in her fingers, she saw it.
Standing atop the boar's carcass was a tiger. A saber-toothed tiger, impossibly large, its muscles rippling under a striped pelt.
It slowly, gracefully stepped off the dead boar. It turned its massive head. And its eyes, a pair of deep, piercing blue vertical slits, fixed on her. The pressure of its gaze was a physical weight, the absolute, suffocating authority of an apex predator.
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9.1
With only fifteen days of cash flow left to save her tech startup, Aida had no choice but to seek a five-million-dollar bridge loan from Brendan Walls, a ruthless billionaire predator.
He agreed to sign the check, but on one sickening condition. He demanded Aida act as bait to get close to his corporate rival, Grayson Lott, treating her like a high-end call girl for a business transaction.
Forced to comply to save her employees, Aida let Grayson take her to a windowless underground club, where he secretly spiked her whiskey.
As the drugs paralyzed her body, triggering horrific flashbacks of a brutal assault from six years ago, Aida locked herself in the bathroom. She had to shatter a mirror and slice her own thigh open with a jagged shard of glass just to stay conscious enough to call Brendan for help.
Brendan's armored SUV immediately smashed through the club's wall to save her, and Grayson was arrested. But lying in the hospital, the horrifying truth finally clicked in Aida's mind.
The rescue was too fast. Brendan’s men hadn't rushed from Midtown; they had been parked outside the entire time. He had watched Grayson drug her and waited for the felony to happen just so he could legally seize Grayson's company. He had gambled her life and trauma for a hostile takeover.
When Brendan casually tossed a signed contract and luxury car keys onto her hospital bed as hush money, the last thread of Aida's sanity snapped.
"The deal is dead. NovaTech is mine. If you ever come near me again, I will kill you."
Bleeding and shaking with icy rage, Aida threw the keys at his chest, formally declaring war on the monster who thought he could buy her soul.
9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
9.1
He postponed putting my name on the deed 18 times.
Each time, his mentee Ciera had an “emergency.” Each time, he ran to her.
I watched him give her his prized Montblanc pen—the one he wouldn’t even let me borrow. I saw her post their late nights on Instagram. I ate anniversary dinners alone while he “mentored” her.
Then he bought me a necklace—identical to the one she just flaunted online.
That was when I stopped feeling anything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight. I simply packed two suitcases, resigned from our firm, and booked a one-way ticket to London.
He thinks I’m coming back in a week.
He has no idea I’m gone for good.
Nineteen broken promises. One silent goodbye. And a new life waiting across the ocean.
9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?
9.4
I was a New York photographer, but I woke up under the brutal sun of the African savanna.
Worse, I wasn't human. I was trapped in the body of a male cheetah, with two starving cubs clinging to my fur, telepathically calling me "Mom."
But I am a real man!
To keep my adopted sons alive, I had to fight hyenas and dodge rogue lions. But the real nightmare was my bizarre survival mechanism. Under extreme threat, I would uncontrollably shift back into my human form—stark, undeniably naked. I was forced to sprint across the plains with my bare skin exposed, carrying two cubs while escaping furious lionesses. I became a freak, the most confusing and humiliating legend of the animal kingdom.
Covered in bloody scratches and mud, I was pushed to the brink of despair. Why was I thrown into this beast's body? Why did my only defense mechanism involve profound social death?
Just when I barely survived a cliff dive to escape the lions, my path was blocked by two massive, highly intelligent prime male cheetahs.
But the alpha, Bradley, didn't want to kill me for my territory.
His intense gaze raked over my naked, bleeding human body with a dark, possessive hunger.
"You are full of surprises."
He purred smoothly, teaching me to magically summon a fur skirt before demanding I join his coalition.
"Oh, you'll come to me. I guarantee it."
Looking into his predatory eyes, I realized I was no longer just surviving the wild; I was the prey of a completely different kind of beast.
7.1
To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive.
But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory.
Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky."
That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead.
But I survived.
Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness.
I took back what was mine.
"I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."