Reborn As The Beastmen's Wicked Wife
Isolde woke up in a freezing, ruined stone house with a splitting headache and only five percent of her life signs remaining.
Before she could even process the mechanical system voice in her head, a flood of violent memories slammed into her.
She had transmigrated into the body of a cruel noblewoman who mercilessly tortured her beastmen husbands with a barbed whip.
And right now, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, having been shoved against the stone floor by one of them.
Outside the rickety door, her husbands were coldly discussing her death.
"Just go in and finish her. One stab, and we're free."
"If she hit her head and died on her own, then it's an accident. We walk out of here as free males."
To test if she was faking her sudden amnesia, the snake beastman Dangelo even ground his heavy military boot into her injured hand, waiting for her to snap so he could legally end her.
She was poisoned, freezing, and entirely at the mercy of the men who deeply despised her.
She was bearing the deadly consequences of a monster she never was, with a red system warning of imminent death flashing in her mind.
But they didn't know the new Isolde had awakened a survival system and Life Magic.
She swore a blood oath to the Beast God to buy herself three months of time.
Then, she turned her sights to the dying wolf beastman chained in the shed, deciding to pull him back from hell to become her very first shield.
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Chapter 2
Brennan's fingers tightened on her collar, his knuckles turning white. His eyes were like blades, scraping over her blood-stained face, searching for any crack in her mask.
Isolde choked, a painful cough tearing from her restricted throat. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, sliding down her grimy cheek, and dropped onto the back of Brennan's hand.
He recoiled as if burned. He dropped her instantly, wiping his hand on his pants with a look of utter disgust. "What kind of sick game are you playing now?" he spat, taking a step back.
Isolde crashed back onto the stone floor. The impact wrenched the wound on the back of her head, sending a fresh wave of agony through her skull. She curled into a ball, clutching her head, whimpering softly. The pain was real, and so was the cold. She didn't need to fake the trembling.
Cameron stepped forward. He crouched down, his long, cold fingers gripping her chin, forcing her face up to meet his gaze.
Isolde had no choice but to look into those deep, scrutinizing eyes. She buried her fear deep down, letting only bewilderment show on her face.
Cameron's thumb pressed against the side of her neck, right over her carotid artery. He could feel her pulse racing like a trapped bird. One hard squeeze, and he could crush her windpipe.
Feeling that lethal pressure, Isolde's body trembled uncontrollably. "Why..." she stammered, her voice shaking. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Cameron stared into her eyes for ten long seconds. He was looking for the malice, the cruelty that always lived there. He found nothing. Just emptiness.
A faint sound came from outside-the soft rustle of scales sliding against stone. A damp, chilling presence crept into the room.
Dangelo Oconnor stood in the doorway, his tall, lean frame blocking out the gray light. He cast a lazy, indifferent glance at Isolde crumpled on the floor, a smirk playing on his lips.
He walked in slowly, his voice dripping with venomous mockery. "I can't believe you two are falling for this pathetic act."
Isolde's mind raced. Dangelo. The snake beastman. The one who hated the original the most, and the most unpredictable of them all.
Dangelo stopped in front of her. He looked down at her like she was dirt. Then, without warning, he lifted his heavy military boot and slammed it down onto the back of her hand, the one she was using to prop herself up.
Pain exploded up her arm. Isolde screamed, tears instantly blurring her vision. She tried to pull her hand back, but Dangelo ground his heel down, crushing her fingers against the rough stone.
He leaned down, his eyes cold and predatory. "If you've really lost your memory," he whispered, "I'd be happy to help squeeze the water out of your brain."
If this were the original Isolde, she would have cursed him out and activated the mate contract to burn him from the inside out. But Isolde bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. She only cried. She didn't fight back.
She used her other hand to weakly push against his boot, a futile gesture. She looked like a girl who had never thrown a punch in her life.
Dangelo frowned. The expected hysterical cursing didn't come. The woman under his foot was as fragile as a dried leaf, crumbling under the slightest pressure.
Cameron spoke up, his voice flat. "Let her go, Dangelo. If she dies now, we're all suspects."
Dangelo scoffed. He lifted his foot, stepping away as if he had just stepped in something filthy.
Isolde immediately cradled her injured hand to her chest. The skin was broken, red and swelling. She scrambled back into the corner, watching the three men with wide, terrified eyes.
[Trust levels remain negative. Lethal intent slightly decreased. ] The system chimed in her head.
Cameron stood up. He pulled a ragged piece of rough cloth from his coat and threw it at Isolde's face. "Wipe your face," he ordered coldly. "Stop trying to look pathetic."
Isolde grabbed the cloth. She scrubbed at her face, the rough fabric stinging her cuts, but she didn't make a sound.
Brennan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "What now, Cameron? Are we really keeping this psycho? She's probably faking the whole thing."
Cameron didn't answer right away. He stared at Isolde, huddled in the corner. "If she's lost her memory," he said slowly, "we call the village healer. We get it verified."
Dangelo's eyes narrowed. He understood immediately. If the healer confirmed her brain was mush, they could legally apply for an annulment of the marriage contract.
Isolde kept her head down. Under the cover of her bloody, tangled hair, a cold smile touched her lips. Delay. That was all she needed.
Cameron turned and walked out into the snow to fetch the healer, leaving Isolde alone with the other two, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on.
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9.2
At the absolute summit of her pop-star career, the stage collapsed beneath Catherine's feet, plunging her into a mechanical black hole.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in a hospital, but a savage, primitive forest.
Before a fire-breathing beast could tear her apart, a massive black snake crushed it with a single strike.
The terrifying serpent then transformed into Amon, a towering, heavily scarred man with golden slitted eyes, who swore his life to protect her.
He brought her to his tribe, but instead of safety, they were met with ravenous hunger and disgust.
The tribe's males stared at Catherine's fragile human body like a rare breeding prize, while treating Amon like garbage.
"He's a cursed, cold-blooded freak! His rut will tear you to pieces!"
The Chief sneered, pointing a thick, accusing finger at Amon.
"By tribal law, you must mate with our strongest tiger and bear shifters to give us powerful cubs!"
Humiliated, Amon's broad shoulders slumped, his fists trembling in suffocating shame as he prepared to back away.
Catherine's heart pounded with fierce, burning anger.
When she was about to be eaten, Amon was the only one who bled for her.
Where were these arrogant bullies then? Why should she let them treat her savior like a monster?
As the tribe's strongest warriors swarmed forward to claim her, Catherine stepped directly in front of Amon's lethal claws.
"I don't need any of you," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"I will mate with Amon and take his beast mark today!"
9.0
I traded my innocence to my fated mate, the Alpha King, just to get a stalk of Moonlight Grass to save my dying brother.
But after a night of agonizing physical connection, he didn't mark me. Instead, he tossed me a single, useless dried leaf and a credit card, treating our sacred bond like a cheap transaction.
When I refused his insulting offer to be his secret, nameless mistress, he choked me against a wall and banished me from his lands forever. I fled to the human city, only to watch from the shadows a week later as he publicly escorted a pure-blood noble female, preparing to make her his Luna. Meanwhile, I was forced to sell herbs in the lawless black market just to survive, where I was cornered by a gang of violent rogues.
I didn't understand. We were chosen by the Moon Goddess. When our skin touched, the mating sparks nearly blinded us both. Why did he look at me with such cold disgust? Why did he throw me away like trash, only to parade another woman as his queen?
Running for my life from the rogues, I tripped and fell onto the asphalt, right at the feet of a convoy of black SUVs.
The man stepping out was the Alpha King who had sworn to kill me if he ever saw me again.
But as the rogues demanded I be handed over, his eyes darkened with a terrifying, primal fury.
"She's mine."
7.4
Cadence, a modern botanist, woke up to a glaring sun and massive, alien purple leaves blocking the sky. She was stranded in a terrifying, primal world.
Before she could process the metallic smell of blood in the air, a white tiger the size of an SUV crushed a giant boar's neck right in front of her. The beast locked its piercing blue eyes on her hiding spot. But instead of tearing her throat out, a blinding flash of silver light erupted, and the monster transformed into a towering, heavily scarred naked man.
He was Harlan, a shifter who immediately claimed her as his mate under tribal law. Dragged back to his primitive village, Cadence faced a brutal reality. Unbonded females were targets, and she was expected to take multiple mates just to survive. The tribal women mocked her fragile frame, calling her useless. To make matters worse, her foreign scent attracted a rogue serpent-shifter who violently ambushed her in the river.
The icy shock of the serpent's attack plunged Cadence into a deadly, burning fever. The tribe's Shaman tried his healing magic, only to shake his head and abandon her.
"She lacks primal fortitude. She will rely entirely on her own weak vitality. I can do nothing."
As Harlan held her shivering body in despair, Cadence felt a deep sense of desperate injustice. Was she really going to die in a filthy stone hut in an unknown universe, killed by a simple cold?
No. She remembered her grandfather's strict survival lessons. Forcing her heavy eyes open, she grabbed her terrified tiger mate's hand. She didn't need their failing magic; she had science.
"I need specific plants to live. I need white willow bark. And a spicy, ginger-like root."
She rasped, preparing to show this savage world the true power of a modern survivor.
8.1
Pretty Devil
8.1
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
8.1
I died on an apocalyptic battlefield, only to wake up pinned down by a lead-lined blanket of my own fat.
A violent download of memories hit me. I had transmigrated into the body of an exiled, sadistic noblewoman who was three million coins in debt.
The original owner was an absolute monster. She had purchased beastman guards just to torture them for fun. In the corner of the filthy room, a golden retriever boy cowered, his back shredded by her barbed whip. In the basement, a snake guard was frozen and scarred from constant electro-shocks. When the white tiger guard returned from hard labor, he looked at me with pure, murderous hatred, ready to tear me apart to protect the others. Even the local elites kicked down my door to mock my pathetic life and try to steal my men.
I was a decorated commander who bled for humanity. Why was I trapped in this ruined vessel, bearing the sins of a degenerate abuser?
It was all a setup by her sweet-faced cousin, Debera, who stole her royal life and sent her to this outer-rim hellhole to rot.
I gritted my teeth and plunged a military-grade gene repair serum into my arm, letting the agony burn away the black filth and weakness.
"The crazy woman you knew before is dead."
I tossed a medical kit to the trembling guards, loaded my old electromagnetic pistol, and headed for the deadly Demon Hunting Zone to start my revenge.
8.7
Kaylee woke up to the smell of rotting leaves and blood, realizing she had transmigrated into the grimdark fantasy novel she was reading last night.
A robotic system in her head immediately delivered a death sentence: she was the tribe's vicious cannon fodder, and the male lead—a brutally tortured slave named Elijah—was currently dying on a totem pole outside.
"If he dies, you will face instant soul-detonation."
Kaylee rushed to the plaza, using her villainous authority to stop the execution and drag his mangled body back to her hut.
But saving him was a nightmare.
The original owner's sadism had traumatized him so deeply that her gentle touches and clean bandages only triggered his PTSD.
His feral energy spiraled out of control, his golden eyes burning with paranoid terror as he waited for a new, twisted psychological game.
To keep his energy from detonating and killing them both, Kaylee was forced to act like a monster.
"I didn't save you because I care. A dead slave is useless to me."
Only her cruel insults and threats of future torture calmed his broken mind.
Adding to her despair, she stumbled upon the novel's supposedly innocent heroine in the forest, only to hear her system detect a terrifying anomaly.
The fragile heroine had her own cheat system.
Trapped with a paranoid future-tyrant and a rival player manipulating the tribe's strongest warriors, Kaylee shoved a bowl of hot stew at the bleeding slave with a mocking sneer.
To survive this hell, she had to play the villain perfectly.