Contract With A Monster: The Heiress's Revenge
It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered.
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Chapter 2
The sound came again. A guttural groan, wet and heavy, coming from the direction of the bathroom.
Eve held her breath until her lungs burned. She pushed herself up from the floor, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. She needed to leave. Serena was dangerous, but the presence in this room felt primal.
She reached for the lock she had just engaged.
A hand shot out of the darkness.
It was large, scorching hot, and iron-hard. It clamped around her wrist with bruising force.
Eve opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could leave her throat, she was yanked forward. The force was overwhelming. She stumbled, flying through the blackness until she collided with a wall of solid muscle.
"Who sent you?" a voice growled. It was deep, rough like gravel, and laced with a terrifying instability.
Eve was pinned against the wall. The man's body was a furnace. He radiated heat that soaked through her thin dress. The scent of him filled her nose-expensive cedar, scotch, and the metallic tang of blood.
"Let me go!" she gasped, clawing at the hand pinning her shoulder.
"Did they pay you?" he snarled. His head dropped, his face burying into the curve of her neck. He wasn't kissing her. He was inhaling her, like a starving man trying to remember what food smelled like. The faint, clean scent of vanilla and jasmine from her perfume seemed to drive him mad.
"Please," Eve whimpered. "I just... I hid here. I didn't know."
He didn't seem to hear her. The drugs in his system were rewriting his reality. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder. Then, he bit down.
It wasn't a love bite. It was a claim. A warning. Sharp pain radiated down her spine.
"Stop!" Eve screamed.
Survival instinct overrode fear. She brought her knee up, driving it hard into his groin.
The man grunted, his grip faltering for a fraction of a second.
It was the opening she needed.
"Get out," he roared, shoving her away from him. The violence of the push sent her reeling. "Get out before I kill you."
Eve stumbled backward, her hip checking a decorative console table. A vase wobbled.
She didn't wait for a second invitation. She scrambled toward the sliver of light under the door. Her hands shook so badly she could barely work the lock.
As she yanked the door open, the movement snagged her diamond butterfly earring on the doorframe. She felt a sharp tug, a pinch at her earlobe, but the adrenaline masked the pain.
The earring fell silently onto the thick carpet.
Eve burst into the hallway and ran. She didn't stop until she was in her own room, the heavy dresser pushed against the door.
Back in the suite, the lights flickered on.
Marcus stood in the doorway, a syringe of antidote in his hand. He took in the scene instantly. The overturned chair. The lingering, delicate scent of a woman's perfume in the air.
Delos French sat on the edge of the sofa, his head in his hands. Sweat soaked his dress shirt, making the fabric cling to his trembling frame. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils blown wide.
"Sir?" Marcus asked, stepping forward.
Delos took the syringe and jammed it into his thigh without flinching. He breathed through the rush of clarity that followed the pain. The wave of nausea was followed by a deeper, more chilling sensation: the fury of being made vulnerable. Of losing control.
His gaze dropped to the floor. Something sparkled in the carpet fibers.
He reached down. His fingers, usually steady enough to sign billion-dollar mergers, shook slightly as he picked it up.
A diamond butterfly. The post was stained with a tiny smear of fresh blood.
Delos closed his fist around it. The sharp edges dug into his palm. He could still feel the phantom sensation of her skin under his hands, the taste of her fear on his tongue. And that scent. He had to find that scent.
"Find her," Delos whispered. The command was absolute. "Find the woman who owns this."
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7.3
Laura Brooks thought she was just an ordinary woman working a normal job-until one reckless night with a stranger changed everything.
Damien Blackwood isn't just dangerously handsome-he's the ruthless Alpha of the most feared werewolf pack in the region. For ten years, he ruled with violence and strength, but the moment he saw Laura, a human, he knew the truth: she was his mate. His Luna. His obsession.
Terrified, Laura tried to run. But fate was cruel. Caught between two rival Alphas-Damien, who would burn the world to keep her, and Kael, who wanted her as a weapon to destroy him-Laura was dragged into a world of blood, betrayal, and war.
Laura's fate is sealed in violence. To save her life and their unborn child, Damien makes the one choice that changes everything: he turns her.
Now Laura is no longer just human. She is Alpha's mate. She is Luna. And the world will learn why no one steals from Damien Blackwood.
7.7
I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."
7.5
"Let's play a game."
"What game?"
"One that involves you not screaming."
★★★★★
I'd been the perfect girlfriend to my star hockey player for two years.
Stood in the rain at his practices. Drove hours just to watch him warm benches. Wore his jersey like it meant something.
And he repaid me by fucking his way through half of Chicago-including the sister of the one man he's been obsessed with for years.
Zane Mercer.
The NHL's most dangerous player. My stepfather's worst enemy. And the man who looked at me like I was something worth destroying the world for.
One impossible offer.
One desperate bet.
One night that changed everything.
Zane doesn't do fake. He doesn't do half measures.
When he tells me I'm his for two months, he means it. In every way that matters.
But Zane has secrets buried so deep they connect to my family's past in ways I never imagined. Dark secrets. Deadly ones.
What starts as a transaction turns into obsession.
What starts as revenge turns into something I can't walk away from.
And what starts as a lie might be the only truth that matters.
They say some men are too dangerous to love.
They're right.
But I was never good at following warnings.
★★★★★
This book contains explicit sexual content, dominant/possessive behavior, morally gray characters, family conflict, and themes that may be triggering. Intended for mature readers 18+.
This isn't your normal hockey romance. It's dark, raw, and unrelenting-where obsession, desire, and power collide, and nothing is off-limits.
9.0
19 years ago, Bethany Delaney was forced to flee the pack in the middle of the night. The Blood Moon attacked the Blue Crescent pack, and her family was murdered in cold blood by the Ruthless and Fearless Alpha Dominic.
3 years later, the revenge comes.
Alpha Dominic Rayleigh is a Ruthless, Fearless Alpha, known and feared by all for his strength and power. He hates the moon goddess for making too many laws for the werewolves, and he swore to kill any girl that the moon goddess gives to him as a mate.
What happens when she finds out that she is his mate that he has sworn to kill?
8.4
Arlene was the illegitimate daughter of the wealthy Boone family, treated worse than a stray dog. To keep her meager scholarship, she had to swallow her pride and apologize to the frat boy who tormented her.
But he didn't just want an apology. He forced her to drink twenty shots of liquor laced with pure capsaicin extract.
"Drink us under the table, or take off your clothes and crawl out."
Arlene drank until her stomach tore, vomiting blood and collapsing on the filthy club floor.
When she dragged her half-dead body back to the Boone estate, her biological father and half-sister didn't care. Instead, her sister ground Arlene's SAT admission ticket into the dirt with her stiletto.
"Throw her out. Dad doesn't want to look at her before Hardie's engagement."
The guards threw her onto the gravel, leaving her bleeding and barefoot in the freezing night.
Arlene sat shivering at a dark bus stop, her dignity completely stripped away. She never wanted a dime from the Boones, so why did they insist on crushing her only way out? And why did Dr. Hardie Boone, the untouchable head of the family, look at her with such a twisted, terrifying obsession?
When Hardie's black Aston Martin pulled out of the shadows, he scooped her up, took her away, and locked her inside his penthouse.
"You carry the Boone name. Whether you live or die is my decision."
Trapped by the dangerous man who demanded total control over her life, Arlene finally realized that simply running away was no longer an option.
7.6
I went to the City Clerk's office to update my passport, desperate to feel alive again after losing my ability to draw.
Instead, the clerk handed me a reality that killed me.
"Mrs. Crosby," she whispered, her face drained of color. "You aren't married to Bennet. The divorce was finalized three years ago. On October 12th."
The date hit me harder than a physical blow.
October 12th was the day my right hand was crushed.
The day Gianna Skinner, a woman obsessed with my husband, shattered twenty-seven bones in my drawing hand with a marble bust.
Bennet, the most ruthless Don in New York, had promised me justice. He swore he locked Gianna in a dungeon to rot for hurting his "Angel."
But the screen in front of me told a different story.
He had married Gianna the very same day he divorced me.
I drove to the Lake House where she was supposed to be suffering. I didn't find a prison; I found a modern glass palace.
There they were, sitting on a swing set I had designed.
Gianna wasn't rotting. She was laughing in his lap, wearing a silk robe.
"She is so pathetic," Gianna purred, tracing his jaw. "Five years and she still thinks she is the Lady of the house."
Bennet chuckled, the sound dark and terrifying.
"She is broken, Gianna. A bird with no wings. She has no value to the Family anymore, except as a trophy on my shelf. She is my pet. You are my fire."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Bennet.
"Happy Anniversary, my Angel. Tonight, I give you the world."
He wasn't giving me the world. He was building a cage out of lies.
Through a bugged ring, I later heard his endgame: he planned to institutionalize me for "mental instability" so he could bring Gianna into the light.
I didn't go home to cry.
I went to my office and opened a secure browser on the dark web.
*Subject: Protocol Erasure.*
*Target: Harper Cline.*
*Execution: Immediate.*
Bennet thought he had broken his pet.
He was about to realize he had just unleashed a lioness.