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 8
Faced with the Chieftain's demand, Abigail calmly bent down and picked up one of the uneaten tubers. It was one of the smaller ones, and she noticed it had already begun to sprout tiny nubs. Perfect.
She held it up for all to see.
"This knowledge was not my own," she said, her voice slow and imbued with a theatrical reverence. "It was given to me in a dream, a command from the Star-Gods."
At the mention of the Star-Gods, the highest and most mysterious beings in their cosmology, a hush of genuine awe fell over the clan. Even the Shaman looked intrigued.
"She's blaspheming!" Chelsea shrieked. "Make her produce the food now, or strike her down for her lies!"
Abigail paid her no mind. She took Bronson's bone knife and, in front of everyone, deliberately sliced the tuber into four pieces.
A collective gasp went through the crowd. To destroy food, even a single piece, was a grave sin.
Abigail pointed to the tiny sprout on each piece. "The Star-Gods call these the 'Eyes of Life'," she explained, translating agricultural science into myth. "Each eye holds the seed of a new harvest."
She walked to a patch of soft, tilled earth at the edge of the square. She knelt, dug four shallow holes with her bare hands, and carefully placed one piece of the tuber in each, eye facing up. She covered them gently with soil.
Then she stood, brushed the dirt from her hands, and made her proclamation.
"With water and time, each of these pieces will grow into a new plant beneath the earth. And each plant will bear a dozen more tubers, larger than the one I started with."
A moment of stunned silence, followed by an explosion of laughter. It was the most absurd, insane thing any of them had ever heard. Food came from a hunt, or from a tree. You didn't get more food by burying it in the dirt.
"She's lost her mind!" Chelsea howled with glee, pointing at the small mounds of dirt. "She's turning our precious food into mud! Chieftain, surely you see this madness!"
The Chieftain's face darkened. He felt like he was being played for a fool. A flicker of anger returned to his eyes.
Gifford waved a dismissive hand. "The farce is over. Take her to the cave."
Two guards stepped forward and grabbed Abigail's arms, their grip hard and unforgiving.
Bronson let out a low, dangerous rumble, but a sharp, commanding look from Abigail stopped him cold.
She wrenched her arms free from the guards. "Answer me this, Chieftain!" she challenged, her voice ringing out. "If I am just a madwoman, how did I know where to find these roots in the forest when none of you even knew they were food?"
The question hit him like a physical blow. He froze. It was true. The miracle she had already performed was undeniable.
Abigail pressed her attack, launching her final gambit. "Give me fifteen days. That is all I ask. The time it takes for the Eyes of Life to sprout from the earth. If nothing has grown in this spot after fifteen days, I will walk onto the pyre myself. You won't even need to drag me."
She swept her gaze across the tribe, her voice rising with righteous power. "You have a choice! Risk fifteen days of waiting for a future of endless food, or, out of foolish pride, murder the messenger of the gods and starve!"
The words struck at their deepest, most primal fear: hunger. The murmuring started again, the tide of public opinion shifting back in her favor.
The Chieftain was trapped. The potential reward was infinite, the cost, negligible. He couldn't afford to be wrong.
Just then, a new voice spoke. "Father, perhaps we should wait."
It was Caiden Fox, the Chieftain's son. He had been watching silently from the back, his eyes fixed on Abigail. He stepped forward, his expression a mixture of fascination and something else.
His intervention tipped the scales. As the heir, his words carried weight.
Chelsea stared at him in disbelief. "Caiden! Why are you helping this outsider?" she screeched. He irritably shook off her hand as she tried to grab his arm.
The Chieftain took a deep breath, the decision made. "Fifteen days," he declared. "We will wait. This ground is now sacred. Anyone who disturbs it will be punished."
He then pointed a finger at Abigail. "But during this time, you will not leave the tribe's settlement. You will be watched. Day and night."
A slow smile spread across Abigail's face. She had won. She had bought the most precious commodity in the world: time.
She looked at the four small mounds of dirt. She had just bet her life on the unwavering, predictable principles of modern agriculture.
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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."