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 4
The gallery was silent again, save for the soft hiss of the ruined camera smoldering on the floor. The smell of burnt plastic and ozone hung heavy in the air.
Cecil stood over Aedan, her expression one of cold assessment. She looked at him the way one might look at a broken tool.
Aedan pushed himself up onto his knees. His legs were weak, his heart still racing. He stared at her, his voice a shaky whisper. "Who... what are you?"
Cecil didn't answer his question. Instead, she took a step closer. She didn't raise her hand this time. She just looked at him.
The air around Aedan thickened. An invisible, crushing weight settled over his shoulders, pushing him down. It felt like a physical hand was pressing on the top of his skull, forcing him toward the floor.
His bones groaned under the pressure. His lungs constricted, refusing to expand. It was like being submerged a thousand feet underwater. He gasped, his hands clawing at the polished wood.
His legs gave out again. His knees slammed back down onto the floor with a sickening thud. This time, it wasn't instinct. It was absolute, undeniable force.
"I am the origin of this family," Cecil said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "And you are the disgrace that will end it."
Aedan tilted his head back, the veins in his neck bulging. He tried to fight it, tried to push back against the invisible weight, but it was useless. He was an ant trying to move a mountain.
Cecil leaned down. Her cold fingers touched his chest, right over his heart.
A sharp, pulling sensation gripped Aedan's chest. It wasn't physical pain; it was something deeper. She was reaching into him, searching for something.
Her brow furrowed again. The disgust on her face shifted into something darker. Shock. Anger.
The light inside him, the Marshall family gift, the potential that should have burned brightly, was barely a flicker. It was a dying ember in a vast, dark void. And worse-much worse-she could see the marks. Tiny, invisible tendrils wrapped around the fading light, siphoning it away. Stealing it.
Cecil yanked her hand back as if she had been burned. The crushing pressure on Aedan intensified tenfold.
Aedan let out a strangled cry, his vision blurring. He thought his ribs were going to crack.
Miles away, in the digital world, the storm was just beginning.
The few seconds of footage captured by the backup camera had made it to the live feed before the explosion. The clip was isolated, clipped, and uploaded to Twitter.
A blurry image of a woman in an ancient dress, with glowing golden eyes, her hand on a kneeling Aedan's forehead. A flash of blue light. A scream.
The hashtag AedanMysteryGirl began to trend within minutes.
The comments were a frenzy of speculation and disbelief.
Is this a movie stunt?
What is she wearing? That's authentic 18th-century silk!
Look at his face! He looks terrified!
She's controlling him. That weirdo finally found someone crazier than him.
He's definitely being held hostage. Or PUA'd. That's an abusive relationship if I've ever seen one.
The narrative spun out of control. The truth of a supernatural awakening was buried under the modern assumption of toxic romance. The public didn't see a matriarch; they saw a captor.
At the Marshall estate, Julian Fletcher sat in his office, his face buried in his hands. His phone was ringing off the hook. Every major news outlet, every gossip blog, every concerned fan was calling. The PR nightmare was a category five hurricane.
Back in the gallery, Cecil finally released the pressure.
Aedan collapsed onto his side, his body soaked in sweat. He curled into a fetal position, his chest heaving, his muscles twitching.
Cecil turned her back on him. She walked over to the fallen portrait, her footsteps silent on the wooden floor. She knelt beside the torn canvas, her fingers gently tracing the painted threads.
"Someone has stolen the light of the Marshalls," she murmured to herself, her voice low and dangerous.
She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at the trembling wreck of a man on the floor. The disgust was still there, but now it was tempered by a cold, hard resolve.
She had to intervene. She had no choice.
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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.