I'm the Young Master's New Pet
After her father's gambling debts put a target on her back, Elara Vance is sold at a private auction to the most feared man in the city: Julian Blackwood, the ruthless heir to a dark empire. But Julian doesn't want a maid or a lover-he wants a "pet." Stripped of her autonomy and forced into a gilded cage, Elara must survive Julian's cruel games and shifting moods. As a dark attraction ignites, she realizes she is a piece in a much deadlier game of revenge. To survive, she must play the pet-while secretly planning to bring the Young Master to his knees.
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Chapter 5
The morning didn't bring light to the Blackwood estate; it only brought a colder shade of gray. Elara hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the thousands of photographs in the hidden archive-her life, curated and stolen by the man who now held her key. She felt like a specimen under a microscope, a butterfly pinned to a board while still fluttering its wings.
The silver collar was a constant reminder of her status. It felt tighter this morning, or perhaps it was just the psychological weight of Lydia's sneer and Julian's veiled threats.
At exactly 6:00 AM, the door buzzed. Two silent maids entered, dressed in crisp, black uniforms. They didn't speak. They didn't even look her in the eye. They moved with a mechanical precision that was more terrifying than outright hostility. They bathed her in water scented with expensive oud and dressed her in a slip of silk so thin it felt like wearing a sigh.
"The Young Master is waiting," one of them finally whispered.
Elara was led down to the basement levels-not to the dining room or the library, but to a part of the house where the marble turned to reinforced concrete and the air grew thin.
Julian was standing in the center of a room that looked like a high-tech sensory tank. In the middle sat a reclining chair surrounded by monitors and a large, opaque visor. The room was soundproofed to a deathly silence.
He looked at her, and Elara felt her skin prickle. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and tailored trousers, looking every bit the elegant executioner.
"You broke the rules, Elara," he said, his voice a low, resonant baritone. "You entered the restricted archives. You sought out secrets you weren't meant to hold."
"You shouldn't have kept them," she countered, her voice shaking but her gaze steady. "You've been stalking me for years, Julian. Why?"
Julian walked toward her, his footsteps echoing in the silent room. He stopped inches from her, the scent of sandalwood and cold rain clinging to him. "Education is expensive, Elara. And you are about to learn the most important lesson of all: In this house, your senses belong to me. If you use your eyes to spy, I will take your sight. If you use your ears to eavesdrop, I will take your hearing."
He gestured to the chair. "Sit."
"No."
Julian didn't argue. He moved with a speed that blurred the air. Before she could scream, he had her wrists pinned behind her back, his body pressing her into the leather chair. He was strong-terrifyingly so-but his touch wasn't brutal. it was possessive. He strapped her wrists and ankles to the chair with silk-lined cuffs.
"This is sensory deprivation," he murmured, leaning over her. "No light. No sound. No touch but what I allow. You will sit in the dark and the silence until you remember who governs your reality."
He lowered the visor over her eyes. Total darkness swallowed her. Then, he placed heavy, noise-canceling headphones over her ears. The hum of the world vanished.
Elara was alone in the void.
Minutes bled into hours. Or was it seconds? Without sight or sound, her mind began to cannibalize itself. She felt the phantom weight of the collar. she felt the silk of her dress against her skin. Every breath felt like a roar in her own chest. She tried to think of her mother, of the garden, but Julian's face kept intervening-the way his eyes looked when he watched her at the auction, the way his thumb felt against her lip.
She began to panic. The darkness felt like a physical weight, crushing the air out of her lungs. She struggled against the silk cuffs, but they didn't budge.
Please, she thought, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Anyone. Just let me hear something.
Suddenly, she felt a vibration. A touch.
A hand brushed against her bare shoulder, the heat of it shocking her system like a bolt of lightning. Because she couldn't see or hear, the sensation was magnified a thousand times. She gasped, her back arching off the chair.
The hand moved slowly, tracing the line of her collarbone, moving toward the silver collar. The fingers were long and steady. Julian. She knew it was him. She could smell him now-the scent was the only thing left in her world.
The headphones were lifted.
"Do you hear me, Elara?" his voice whispered, sounding like it was coming from inside her own head.
"Julian," she choked out, her voice raw. "Please... take it off. I can't breathe in the dark."
"The dark is where the truth lives," he murmured. He removed the visor, but the room was still dim, lit only by a single blue light behind the monitors.
He was leaning over her, his face inches from hers. His eyes weren't cold anymore; they were burning with a dark, uncontrolled hunger. He looked at her as if he wanted to consume her and protect her at the same time.
"You want to know why I watched you?" he asked, his hand moving to the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below the collar. "Because you were the only thing in this world that wasn't for sale. You were the only thing that felt real. I didn't engineer your father's ruin, Elara. He did that himself. I just ensured that when the world finally crushed him, you wouldn't fall with him. I bought you so no one else could."
"You branded me," she whispered, her heart pounding so hard she thought he could see it through her dress.
"I marked what is mine," he growled.
He leaned in closer. The tension was an electric wire, humming between them. Elara knew she should hate him. She knew he was a monster, a stalker, a man who had stolen her life. But in the silence of the deprivation room, with his heat radiating against her and his scent filling her lungs, the hate felt brittle.
"You're a monster," she breathed.
"I am," he agreed, his lips ghosting over her jaw. "But I'm your monster."
He didn't wait for her to respond. He crushed his lips against hers.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was an explosion of years of suppressed obsession and weeks of mounting tension. It was desperate, dark, and devastatingly hot. Elara's mind screamed no, but her body betrayed her, responding to his touch with a fervor that terrified her. She kissed him back with a hunger that matched his own, her teeth catching his lower lip, her hands straining against the cuffs to reach him.
Julian groaned into her mouth, his hand sliding down to her waist, pulling her as close to him as the chair would allow. The kiss tasted of iron and silk, of power and surrender. It was the most intense thing Elara had ever felt-a sensory overload after the long hours of deprivation.
He pulled back, his breath ragged, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, the Young Master was gone, replaced by a man who was utterly undone by the woman in his arms.
"I should hate you," she whispered, her lips swollen and red.
"You do," he said, his voice a jagged edge. "That's what makes this perfect."
He reached down and unclipped the silk cuffs. He didn't let her go; he pulled her out of the chair and against his chest, his arms wrapping around her like a cage.
"Tonight is the first formal dinner with the staff and the elders of the Blackwood house," he said, his voice regaining its cold professionalism, though his hand still trembled slightly as he smoothed her hair. "You will be at my side. You will wear the diamonds I gave you. And you will show them all why I paid fifty million for a girl from a fallen house."
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"And if you ever try to run again, Elara, the next room won't have a chair. It will only have me."
He released her and walked to the door, leaving her standing in the blue-lit room, her body still vibrating from his touch.
Elara touched her lips. She looked at the visor on the floor. She had learned a lesson today, but it wasn't the one Julian intended. She had learned that she had power over him-the power of his own obsession.
And she was going to use
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8.6
I was the youngest Paladin in history, the absolute pride of the Azure Blade.
But after a disastrous mission in the snow, I was falsely accused of slaughtering my own squad.
Grand Master Bernardo Rowe didn't just exile me; he surgically severed my connection to the magic Aether, turning me into a crippled mortal.
Desperate to survive, I tried to climb the Holy Stairs to reclaim my legendary sword, "Rebellion."
Instead of answering my call, my own blade shrieked in absolute rejection and blasted me down the thousand stone steps.
My bones snapped like dry twigs, and I was left in a pool of my own blood.
The pilgrims laughed at me. The guards declared me a lost cause and left me to rot in the dirt.
I should have died there, betrayed by the Order and the holy magic I once served.
But a silent, massive laborer named Cato Sims dragged my mangled body into the shadows.
He healed my shattered skeleton in mere days with impossible skill, yet he allowed lowly servants to spit on him and beat him just to keep my presence hidden.
I didn't understand why my holy sword had abandoned me, and I understood even less why this stranger was protecting a condemned criminal.
When I finally snapped and demanded to know his price for saving my life, he didn't ask for money or my body.
"The mountain does not forget its debts. I am reclaiming what was taken from it."
Staring into his unyielding eyes, I realized my exile wasn't the end, but the beginning of a terrifying truth.
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."
9.3
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.
9.4
My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island.
He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis.
When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate.
They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard.
They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy.
Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise.
"Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation."
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!)
8.0
The moon chooses a mate for its immortal king every century-and Arielle was never supposed to be the one.
A low-ranked wolf with no power, no status, her quiet life shatters the night an ancient mate bond awakens, pulling the ruthless Moon King straight to her doorstep. Bound by a fate neither can break, she's dragged into his world of blood-soaked laws, buried secrets, and an Alpha who believes destiny gives him the right to own her.
But Arielle is no prize-and the Moon King is about to learn that controlling her is easy... trusting her, and craving her, is not.
As enemies close in and the moon demands its price, desire turns lethal. Survival means surrendering to a love neither planned for-one that could rewrite their fated bond entirely.
Because the moon never makes mistakes... or does it?