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 3
The great tiger moved with a silence that defied its size. Its massive paws, each the size of a dinner plate, made no sound on the carpet of dead leaves as it approached her.
Abigail's body was frozen solid. Her breath was trapped in her lungs. A frantic, useless calculation ran through her mind: play dead or fight? The answer was the same for both. Zero.
It stopped directly in front of her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from its body. It lowered its enormous head, its hot, coppery breath washing over her face. It smelled of blood and something else, something wild and clean like a thunderstorm.
She flinched, expecting the snap of jaws, the tearing of flesh.
Instead, a long, rough tongue extended from its mouth. It gently, deliberately, licked the trail of blood from her forehead.
The texture was like coarse sandpaper. A shiver ran through her, but it wasn't entirely from fear. She saw something in its deep blue eyes. Not hunger. Not aggression. It was... curiosity. A strange, unnerving intelligence.
Suddenly, the tiger's body began to glow. A brilliant, silver-blue light erupted from it, so bright it forced Abigail to shield her eyes.
When the light faded, the tiger was gone.
In its place, a man knelt on one knee before her.
He was naked, his body a breathtaking sculpture of lean, powerful muscle, his honey-colored skin a roadmap of old, faded scars. Wild, dark hair fell across a ruggedly handsome face, and his eyes... they were the same piercing, impossible blue as the tiger's.
Abigail's jaw dropped. Her scientific, orderly view of the universe shattered into a million pieces.
"What the hell..." she breathed, the words barely a whisper.
The man-Bronson-watched her, his expression unreadable. "Are you hurt?" he asked. His voice was a low, rough rasp, surprisingly gentle.
The question snapped her back to reality. A scientist's training took over, pushing down the shock. She pointed a trembling finger at her ankle. "I can't walk. It's twisted."
Without a word, Bronson reached for her. He slid one powerful arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. His movements were careful, his grip firm but gentle, consciously avoiding the burns on her legs.
Pressed against his bare, warm chest, a startling sense of security washed over her. It was primal and illogical, but undeniable. Then she remembered.
"Wait," she said, struggling slightly. She pointed a shaky finger at the pile of tubers she had dug up. "The food. We have to take the food. And the boar. It's my proof."
Bronson glanced at the dirt-caked tubers, a faint frown creasing his brow. He clearly didn't recognize them as food. But he didn't argue. He carried her to a large, clean boulder and set her down carefully.
Then he walked over to the patch of earth. His hands began to shift, his nails elongating into thick, black claws. He plunged his tiger claws into the soil and, with a few powerful rakes, unearthed the entire network of vines and tubers, creating a small mountain of them.
Abigail watched, amazed. It was like watching a biological backhoe at work. "Use the vines," she instructed, her voice regaining its confidence. "Tie them into a bundle."
He obeyed, his movements efficient and precise. He then walked to the boar's carcass, hoisted its several-hundred-pound weight onto one shoulder with sickening ease, and slung the massive bundle of tubers over the other. He came back to the boulder and grunted, jerking his head toward his back.
The message was clear.
Abigail hesitated for a second, then slid off the rock and onto his broad, scarred back, wrapping her arms around his neck. The feeling of her skin against his was intensely intimate and unnerving, but she had no other choice.
He started moving. Even carrying her, the boar, and the tubers-a load that must have weighed close to a ton-he moved through the dense, uneven forest floor as if he were taking a stroll in a park. His speed was incredible.
On the way back, she tried to probe. "What's your name?"
A long silence. Then, "Bronson."
"What tribe are you from?"
Another pause, this one heavier. "I am an exile."
She caught the flicker of darkness in his eyes at that word. A smart scientist knows when to stop collecting data. She changed the subject, telling him how the tubers needed to be cooked to be safe and delicious.
Soon, the trees began to thin. The distant, crude outline of the Silverfox Clan's settlement appeared through the gloom.
A high, piercing shriek of a bone whistle cut through the air. A lookout had spotted them, smelling the blood and the foreign, powerful scent of a high-level beastman.
The settlement erupted into chaos. Warriors grabbed spears and stone axes, forming a defensive line at the entrance, their faces a mixture of fear and aggression.
When Bronson strode out of the forest's shadow, carrying Abigail and his monumental load, a collective gasp went through the guards. A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd, not just at the dead boar, but at the man himself-a powerful, scarred, and completely naked stranger. Some of the younger females quickly averted their eyes, their faces flushing a deep crimson, while the warriors gripped their spears tighter, their suspicion mixed with a primal, deeply rooted unease. They were frozen in place, paralyzed by the sheer force of his presence.
The Chieftain arrived, his eyes widening in shock as he saw Abigail, alive and relatively unharmed, and the colossal boar.
Chelsea shoved her way through the crowd. Her face twisted into a mask of pure, undiluted jealousy when she saw Abigail not only alive, but being carried by a powerful and brutally handsome stranger.
Bronson ignored them all. He walked to the center of the square and dropped the boar carcass and the bundle of tubers to the ground. The impact shook the earth.
He then gently lowered Abigail to her feet, his massive frame standing in front of her like a shield. He swept his cold, blue eyes over the entire clan, a silent, powerful declaration that their deal was done.
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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."