Secret Princess: The Beast's Captive Mate
In a world where the Wither virus turned surviving women into breeding livestock, Elinore was disguised as a boy at birth just to survive.
For twenty-one years, she lived a suffocating lie as the ruthless Prince of Navia, binding her chest and hiding her true gender. But her fragile reality shattered when her uncle, the tyrant King Orestus, casually gambled away her older sister Josefina in a card game.
Elinore kicked down the doors and violently rescued her sister, holding a short sword to the sweaty minister's throat.
"She is my legal property now! The King bet her and lost!" the minister screamed, waving the royal wax seal.
Elinore forced him to flee, but the aftermath was devastating. Their parents had been murdered by the King a decade ago, leaving them as captive pawns. Josefina, completely broken and terrified, wept in Elinore's arms. She actually begged to be sold off to a distant, savage kingdom just to escape the daily, inescapable hell of their uncle's court.
Stripping off her heavy military uniform in the dead of night, Elinore stared at her bruised, female body in the mirror. She was drowning in a suffocating sense of injustice. Why did women have to live as prey?
But an even deeper, more terrifying mystery was waking up inside her.
A strange, feverish heat began pulsing deep in her abdomen—an alien biological demand she couldn't control. That very night, she dreamed of a monstrous, seven-foot-tall Urekai beast pinning her to the freezing mud, its glowing yellow eyes claiming her as its mate.
Her disguise was failing, and her own body was betraying her. To save her sister and uncover the truth behind her awakening, the fake Prince decided it was time to burn this tyrannical kingdom to the ground.
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Chapter 2
The infant's cries bounced off the narrow stone walls, loud and full of life. Agnes moved the warm, wet cloth over the baby's delicate skin in quick, gentle strokes.
Alistair's Adam's apple bobbed hard in his throat. He took a half-step forward, leaning over Agnes's shoulder, desperate to see.
On the bed, Pandora slumped against the blood-stained pillows. Her hands gripped the sheets so tightly her knuckles were pure white. Her eyes were wide, manic, staring at the stone ceiling as she whispered frantic, breathless prayers to any god who would listen.
Agnes moved the cloth down to the baby's lower half.
Suddenly, the healer's hands stopped. Her entire body froze. It was as if she had been turned to stone.
The wet cloth slipped from her trembling fingers. It hit the edge of the copper basin with a sharp smack, splashing pink, blood-tinged water onto the freezing floor.
Agnes's shoulders started to shake. A violent shudder ripped through her spine. She sucked in a sharp, ragged breath. All the color drained from her face, leaving her skin a sickly, translucent gray.
Alistair saw her freeze. An invisible fist punched straight through his chest and squeezed his lungs. His breath caught.
"What is it?" Alistair demanded. His voice was a low, terrifying growl. "Agnes! Speak!"
Agnes turned her head slowly. Her eyes were wide with a terror so profound it looked like madness. Her lips trembled, parting, but no sound came out.
Alistair shoved her aside. He stepped up to the foot of the bed and grabbed the edge of the rough wool blanket wrapped around the crying infant. He ripped it back.
The flickering torchlight hit the baby's lower half.
It was flat. There were no male organs.
It was a girl. The ultimate curse of the Wither era.
Alistair's pupils shrank to pinpricks. It felt like a sledgehammer slammed directly into his sternum. His legs gave out completely. His knees slammed into the hard stone floor with a sickening thud.
He buried his face in his hands. His broad shoulders heaved. A raw, animalistic gasp tore from his throat. It was the sound of a man drowning in absolute despair.
Pandora heard the gasp. Her maternal instincts caught the shift in the room's oxygen. Her brain short-circuited. The last thread of her sanity snapped.
"No... no! It's impossible!" Pandora shrieked.
The sound was agonizing. She didn't care about the tearing pain between her legs. She thrashed wildly, trying to drag her exhausted body toward the foot of the bed.
Alistair's head snapped up. Survival instinct kicked in. He lunged forward, grabbing the wool blanket and wrapping it tightly around the baby. He spun around and caught his wife just as she nearly tumbled off the mattress.
He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to his chest.
Pandora fought him. She beat her fists against his chest. Tears flooded from her eyes, soaking right through Alistair's linen shirt.
"It's a girl... God, why are you punishing us? !" Pandora screamed, her voice cracking into a hysterical sob. "Orestus will sell her! They'll treat her like livestock! My baby!"
Alistair clamped his large hand over her mouth. He shot a terrified look at the heavy oak door. If the guards heard this, they were dead. All of them.
Agnes backed away from the bed. She retreated until her spine hit the cold stone wall. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. "We are going to hang," she mumbled, her eyes vacant. "The King is going to kill us all."
The baby girl felt the panic in the room. Her cries grew sharper, piercing the air. Every wail felt like a serrated blade sawing against Alistair's heart.
He had to stop this. He grabbed Pandora by the shoulders and shook her. Hard.
"Quiet! Pandora! Look at me!" Alistair hissed. His eyes were wild, feral. "We cannot break down right now!"
Pandora's screams choked off into violent, gasping sobs. Her chest heaved. She reached out with trembling arms.
Alistair gently placed the doomed baby girl into her mother's embrace.
Pandora looked down at the tiny, red face. The sheer force of a mother's love slammed into her, overriding the panic. She pulled the baby tight against her bare chest, trying to shield her from the cold room and the colder world outside.
The baby felt the warmth of her mother's skin. The sharp cries slowly faded into soft, contented smacks of her lips. She had no idea she had just been born into a slaughterhouse.
Alistair stood up. He walked to the oak door and pressed his ear against the thick wood. He held his breath, listening for the clank of armor or the shout of guards.
Nothing. Just the storm.
He turned back to the room. He looked down at Agnes sitting on the floor. He drew the dagger from his belt. The steel caught the candlelight. His eyes were dead and full of warning.
Agnes slapped both hands over her mouth. She shook her head frantically, silently promising she wouldn't make a sound.
Alistair sheathed the blade. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at his wife. "I have to go to the Great Hall. I need to see what Orestus is doing. I need to know if he suspects anything. Wait here."
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7.9
I was lying in the emergency room with acute gastroenteritis on my birthday, but my mother ordered me to rip out my IV needle.
She threatened to freeze all my accounts if I didn't show up to my adopted sister's high-society matchmaking party.
When I arrived, dragging my weak body, I caught my fiancé Julio protecting his mistress.
Worse, my adopted sister Billie framed me for stealing my own grandmother's heirloom earrings just to play the victim in front of New York's elite.
I refused to be their stepping stone and projected the evidence of Julio's affair on the massive ballroom screen.
In a rage, my father cursed me, and my mother slapped me across the face so hard my mouth bled.
During the ensuing physical struggle, my adopted sister, the mistress, and I all plunged into the freezing outdoor swimming pool.
My fiancé desperately swam to save his mistress, while my own brother rushed to pull my adopted sister above the water.
I stopped kicking and let my heavy, soaked clothes pull me down to the bottom of the black pool.
Why did my own flesh and blood treat me like garbage?
After a mysterious bodyguard pulled me from the water, I watched my family frantically wrap the other two women in warm blankets.
I didn't shed a single tear.
"I am no longer a part of this family. I never want to see any of you again."
I publicly canceled the engagement, turned my back on the wealthy estate, and walked away into the freezing winter night.
9.0
I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal.
Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer.
To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie.
I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative.
"We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates."
To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
7.2
Two years ago, Amaya Bennett witnessed a murder.
A powerful man was killed in cold blood, right in front of her. She should have died that night too.
Instead, she woke up in a hospital with no memory of what happened. No faces, no names and no clues. Just fragments, blurred images that slip through her fingers every time she tries to hold on.
Now, Amaya lives a quiet life, piecing herself back together. She works part-time, avoids trouble, and stays invisible. Until she lands a job at Twilight Global.
A company owned by Jake Anderson, the cold and untouchable CEO whose father was murdered the same night Aria lost her memory. Jake spent years searching for the only witness. But she vanished without any trace. Or so he thought.
But somehow, they cross path again, working under his roof, completely unaware of the truth she carries.
The killer is still out there.
And when Amaya starts getting flashes of blood, a voice, a ring glinting under the dim light, the hunt begins again.
But this time, she's not alone. Because even before he realizes who she is... Jake has already started protecting her. In the most relentless and dangerous way.
7.1
Behind every locked door lies a secret... For Elena, it's the hunger she hides from her cold and distant husband. For Adrian, it's the forbidden desire he feels for the one woman he should never touch-his stepmother.
What begins as stolen glances and teasing remarks quickly spirals into something dangerous. Behind closed doors, guilt turns into obsession, lust turns into fire, and the line between right and wrong disappears.
But how long can they keep their dirty secret before it explodes, tearing the family apart?
A forbidden romance dripping with passion, danger, and irresistible temptation.
9.3
After eight years in captivity, I was finally rescued. I thought it was the beginning of a new life with my mother.
But she didn't even look at me. She ran into the arms of a handsome stranger, her real husband, and I was treated like a dirty secret from her past.
They called me a contamination, a reminder of their trauma. My new stepsister set their Doberman on me, and as the dog's teeth sank into my arm, I looked up and saw my mother watching from the window.
She met my eyes for a second, then slowly closed the curtains.
In that moment, the last bit of hope I had died. The shallow bond of family was completely gone, and I finally gave up.
But they made one mistake. The family patriarch, suspicious after a car accident, ordered a secret DNA test.
The results came back on the day of my stepsister's birthday party, revealing a truth that would burn their perfect world to the ground.
7.6
I died as an MMA champion in an octagon halfway across the world.
But instead of finding peace, I woke up face-down in the cracked Ohio dirt, trapped in the severely malnourished body of an eighteen-year-old girl named Alissa.
Along with this frail, useless body came a flood of agonizing memories.
Her glamorous sister, Ainsley, treated her like a slave, starving her and working her to the bone while playing the perfect saint to the outside world.
Worse, her brother-in-law Kristopher, a highly respected high school teacher, was a disgusting predator.
He constantly cornered her in dark hallways, whispering sickening threats disguised as affection, waiting for the perfect moment to completely ruin her.
"You are meant to be mine, little bird. This is our secret."
The original Alissa had lived her entire life in suffocating terror.
She was completely powerless, eventually dying of sheer exhaustion and silent despair in a suffocating cornfield while her abusers lived comfortably.
They thought she was just a pathetic, broken toy they could crush without consequence.
But the dull, defeated glaze in Alissa's eyes is gone now.
In its place is the sharp, calculating focus of a killer.
My new body might be weak and starved, but my mind is a lethal weapon. The predators are about to become the prey.