Kneel For Me: The Immortal Queen's Shadow
I was an arrogant, canceled reality TV star, trying to salvage my ruined reputation on a live broadcast.
But after I lost my temper and assaulted a cameraman, my furious grandfather chased me into our family's forbidden gallery, where I accidentally crashed into an ancient, sealed portrait.
The canvas shattered, and a terrifying woman with glowing golden eyes stepped out of the wall.
She was Cecil, the First Matriarch of the Marshall family. She caught a lightning bolt with her bare hands and crushed me to my knees with an invisible, suffocating pressure.
My grandfather, instead of saving me, groveled on the floor and abandoned me to her mercy.
"You are the disgrace that will end this family."
She hijacked my entire life, forcing me to act as her submissive baggage handler on my own survival reality show, broadcasting my humiliation to millions.
I didn't understand why this ancient monster was tormenting me. Why did she strip away my pride, treat me like a broken tool, and force me to endure the mockery of the very ex-girlfriend who had ruined my life?
But when those same cast members tried to corner me in the dark woods, Cecil stepped in front of me, her eyes locking onto the silver ring of the man mocking me.
"To catch the wolf, one must sometimes walk with the sheep."
That was when I realized she wasn't here to destroy me—she was here to hunt the parasites who had been secretly siphoning away my life force.
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Chapter 1
"You people are just jealous of my life."
Aedan Marshall lounged on the velvet sofa, his voice dripping with contempt. He stared directly into the lens of the studio camera, a slow, mocking smile spreading across his face. He didn't care that millions were watching. In fact, he loved it.
In the corner of the room, standing just out of the camera's frame, Julian Fletcher wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. The publicist's hands were shaking. He waved his arms frantically, slicing his hand across his throat in the universal sign to cut the feed.
Aedan saw him. He deliberately ignored the warning. He leaned closer to the lens, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You sit behind your screens, typing your little comments, while I live in a mansion you could never afford."
The live chat on the monitor beside him exploded. The text scrolled so fast it was a blur of vitriol. Scum. Cancel Aedan. Privileged trash. The hate was a living, breathing thing, filling the studio with a suffocating tension.
Julian couldn't take it anymore. He lunged forward, his hand reaching for the power switch on the camera rig. "Aedan, stop!" he hissed, his voice cracking.
Aedan's hand shot out, smacking Julian's hand away with a brutal backhand. The sound echoed in the quiet room. "Don't touch my equipment," Aedan snarled.
He stood up from the sofa, his posture rigid with defiance. He looked back at the camera, his middle finger raised high in the air. "This is what I think of your outrage."
The cameraman, acting on pure instinct, hoisted the heavy camera onto his shoulder and stepped forward, shoving the lens right into Aedan's face to capture the explosive moment.
The proximity was a mistake. Aedan's temper, already a lit fuse, detonated. His eyes went wide with fury. He grabbed the front of the cameraman's shirt with one hand and shoved him backward with all his strength.
The cameraman stumbled, his boots catching on a thick cable on the floor. He went down hard, the expensive camera hitting the concrete floor with a sickening crunch. Glass shattered. Plastic splintered.
Silence crashed into the room, broken only by the cameraman's groan of pain. Two production assistants rushed over to help him up, their faces pale with shock.
Aedan didn't even glance at the wreckage. He let out a cold scoff, adjusted his jacket, and turned on his heel. He strode toward the double doors of the studio, leaving the chaos behind him.
"Aedan!" Julian chased after him into the corridor, his shoes squeaking on the polished hardwood. He grabbed Aedan's arm, his fingers digging into the expensive fabric. "Are you insane? You just assaulted a crew member on live television! Your career is over! The family name-"
Aedan whipped around, his arm ripping free from Julian's grasp. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving. "The Marshall family doesn't answer to anyone!" he yelled, spittle flying from his lips. "Not the public, not the network, and certainly not you!"
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The heavy, rhythmic sound of a wooden cane striking the floor echoed from the far end of the dimly lit hallway.
Aedan froze. The fiery rage in his eyes extinguished, replaced instantly by a flicker of pure, childish fear. He knew that sound. He knew the rhythm.
Sterling Marshall emerged from the shadows. The old man's face was a mask of thunder, his wrinkles carved deep with disgust. He gripped his silver-tipped cane like a weapon.
"Family disgrace," Sterling roared, his voice booming off the paneled walls. He raised the cane high above his head.
Aedan didn't wait for the blow. He turned and ran, his expensive leather shoes slipping on the highly waxed floor. It wasn't the cane he feared, but the cold, clinical lecture that would follow-the freezing of his accounts, the confiscation of his keys, the utter stripping of his freedom. The cane was just the overture. He sprinted down the corridor, his breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps.
Sterling was surprisingly fast for his age. He chased after his grandson, the cane whistling through the air. It missed Aedan's shoulder and smacked against a porcelain vase on a side table, sending shards flying across the carpet.
"Come back here, you worthless boy!" Sterling bellowed, his face flushed red with exertion and anger. "I'll break your legs!"
Aedan didn't look back. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape. The main hallway was blocked. His only option was the side door, the one that was always locked, leading to the private wing of the estate.
He hit the door at full speed. To his shock, the heavy oak door wasn't latched. As he neared, he felt a strange, cold draft emanating from it, and saw the heavy bolt on the frame had been sheared clean off, the wood around it splintered as if from an internal blast. It swung open, and he stumbled into the dark, cavernous space of the family's private gallery.
The air in here was different-cold, still, heavy with the scent of old dust and ancient wood. Aedan's eyes hadn't adjusted to the darkness. He could barely see the towering display cases and the long, draped furniture.
"I'll teach you respect!" Sterling's voice echoed right behind him.
Panic seized Aedan's chest. He sprinted forward, his feet scrambling for traction on the slick, polished floor. He glanced back over his shoulder, seeing his grandfather's silhouette fill the doorway.
His foot caught on the leg of a display stand. The world tilted. Aedan threw his hands out to break his fall, but his momentum was too strong. He was hurtling directly toward the center of the room.
Toward the massive, gilded portrait that hung on the far wall.
"No!" Aedan screamed, his hands flailing in the dark.
He slammed into the heavy frame with the full weight of his body. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. A deafening crack echoed through the gallery as the ancient wood splintered. The entire portrait shuddered, the canvas tearing under the force of his shoe, and a strange, unsettling vibration hummed through the walls.
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8.8
The only thing more dangerous than the game is the man guarding the crease.
Lyon Navarro has spent his entire career tearing down the San Diego Stormbreakers. As the city's most ruthless journalist, he's made an art form out of exposing the Alphas' volatile tempers and their scandalous lives off the rink. He's the man they love to hate-until a desperate management team offers him the biggest paycheck of his life to fix their image.
The assignment? Tame the six most notorious werewolves in the league.
But Lyon isn't just dealing with professional athletes; he's stepping into a den of apex predators who have been waiting for him to cross their territory. And they have no intention of playing nice.
Rafael Stone, the team's intense, iron-willed captain, has made one thing clear: if Lyon wants to manage the pack, he's going to have to survive them. But between the locker room tension, the high-stakes pressure of the season, and the way the pack's gazes feel like a physical brand on his skin, Lyon realizes he's no longer just reporting the story-he's the one being hunted.
In a world of adrenaline, cold ice, and raw, lupine desire, Lyon is about to discover that the line between enemy and lover is thinner than a skate blade.
Six Alphas. One PR strategist. And a season that's about to get very, very hot.
Beyond the Ice is a high-stakes, slow-burn MM hockey werewolf romance. Expect intense power dynamics, sizzling tension, and a pack that doesn't just want to win the cup-they want to claim their man.
9.3
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
7.8
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
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."
7.3
Naelis Haldrith is many things, daughter to the South's most strategic Alpha, an Omega with Alpha genes, and an unapologetic misfit. During summer break, she decides to journey to Frostpine and spend her heat cycle with her boyfriend, the golden pea of the Thalric pod.
But during a collared moment, a secret of his is revealed, and Naelis realizes that their relationship was more complex than it seemed. Choosing to return to her pack, she steps outside under a storm, and it is at that moment she crosses paths with a man she had never seen before.
Zoran Vyer Thalric. Uncle to her ex. Member of the Elder's Council. The otherworldly primordial with red-ringed eyes and a wolf barely chained beneath his skin. Desire sparks instantly, and her sights are immediately set on him, but... he is a devotee of the Citadel, celibate, untouched, and unwilling to be the calm to her fury.
She is fire, wild and untamed. He is steel, honed and contained. And for the first time, Naelis is the hunter after her prey, and the line of resistance slowly blurs as he finds his years of enforced self-control and suppression unraveling at the tint of her touches.
And with a maniac on their radar, this summer break will demand blood, sacrifice, and passion that howls to the moon.
8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.