The Savage Chief's Coveted Modern Bride
The darkness of the Yale archaeological dig site swallowed Eleanor whole, dropping her straight into a lethal, prehistoric jungle.
Before she could even process the bizarre time jump, a massive prehistoric wolf attacked her, only for her to be saved—and immediately claimed—by Jace, a towering, blood-soaked savage chief who marked her as his mate.
Dragged back to his primitive camp, her nightmare only escalated.
When she used her modern first-aid kit to save a dying hunter whose stomach had been ripped open, the tribe didn't thank her.
Instead, a jealous tribeswoman named Greta and a ruthless Shaman incited a violent, torch-wielding mob.
"Burn the witch before we all die!"
They marched on the Chief's cave, demanding Eleanor be burned alive, claiming her life-saving stitches and antibiotics were dark magic that would curse them all.
Eleanor was terrified and furious. She had just pulled a man back from the brink of death using basic medical science, yet she was about to be slaughtered by a mindless mob simply because they couldn't understand her language. Was she really going to be burned at the stake for an act of pure salvation?
But when the hunter's fever broke and he walked out alive, the angry mob dropped to their knees in absolute reverence.
Looking at her dying lighter and finite supplies, Eleanor realized that fear wouldn't keep her alive in this brutal world.
She pulled out her tactical pen, deciding to drag this savage tribe out of the dark ages herself.
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Chapter 6
A massive shadow exploded from the tree line.
Jace moved faster than humanly possible. He was shirtless, his chest heaving. Fresh, dark blood was still flowing from the jagged wound on the side of his head where Eleanor had struck him. His steps carried a faint, almost imperceptible stagger from the severe concussion, but the sheer, unadulterated rage in his bloodshot eyes entirely masked the trauma. He pushed through the debilitating dizziness, his gaze fixed entirely on the wolves.
He didn't have his spear. He didn't need it.
He launched himself into the air and drove his bare heel straight down into the spine of the wolf closest to Eleanor. A sickening crack echoed through the trees. The wolf collapsed instantly, paralyzed, without making a sound.
The alpha wolf abandoned Eleanor and lunged at Jace's throat.
Jace let out a feral snarl. He didn't dodge. He reached out with both hands and grabbed the wolf's upper and lower jaws mid-air.
Eleanor watched in paralyzed horror. The muscles in Jace's arms bulged, thick veins popping against his skin. With a roar that tore from his lungs, he wrenched his arms apart.
The sound of tearing flesh and snapping bone was deafening. Jace ripped the alpha's jaw completely out of its socket.
A spray of hot, dark blood coated Jace's chest and face. He tossed the dead alpha aside like a broken toy.
The remaining three wolves didn't hesitate. They tucked their tails between their legs and bolted into the darkness, whining in terror.
The forest fell dead silent, save for Jace's heavy, ragged breathing.
He turned slowly. His blood-soaked chest heaved. His dark eyes locked onto Eleanor, who was curled into a ball against the tree, trembling violently.
Eleanor shrank back. She had hit him. She had run away. He was going to kill her.
Jace closed the distance in two long strides. He towered over her, blocking out the stars.
Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow.
Instead, Jace dropped to one knee. His massive, blood-stained hands reached out. He didn't strike her. His rough fingers gently, almost hesitantly, touched her arms, checking for injuries.
His eyes scanned the scratches on her face, the torn skin on her palm, and the dirt covering her clothes. The violent rage in his eyes melted away, replaced by a deep, agonizing panic.
Suddenly, Jace's gaze snapped to the ground near her leg.
The snake had slithered back. It coiled, ready to strike Eleanor's ankle.
Jace's hand shot out like a whip. He grabbed the snake right behind its head before it could move. The snake wrapped its thick body around his forearm, hissing violently.
Jace didn't even blink. He squeezed his fist. A sharp pop sounded as he crushed the snake's skull to mush. He casually tossed the dead reptile into the bushes.
He turned back to Eleanor. She was staring at him, her chest heaving, her eyes wide with shock.
Jace let out a soft, rumbling sigh. He reached out and used his thumb to gently wipe a smear of black ash off her cheek.
The extreme gentleness of the gesture, coming from a man covered in gore who had just ripped a wolf apart with his bare hands, shattered the last of Eleanor's defenses.
The adrenaline crashed. Tears spilled over her eyelashes, tracing hot paths down her dirty cheeks.
Jace looked panicked at her tears. He clumsily tried to wipe them away with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing a bit of wolf blood on her jaw.
Eleanor didn't care. She looked up at this massive, blood-soaked man. Fear and profound gratitude waged a violent war in her chest. He was savage, terrifying, and the very reason she was trapped in this camp. Yet, at this exact moment, he was also the only impenetrable barrier between her and a gruesome death. Logic screamed at her to keep her distance, but the primal, overwhelming instinct to survive crushed every rational thought. The terror of the wolves, the cold, the absolute isolation-it all crashed down on her. She lunged forward and buried her face into his broad, burning-hot chest.
Jace went completely rigid. For a second, he didn't breathe. Then, his massive arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him. He buried his face in her blonde hair, inhaling deeply.
Listening to the steady, powerful thud of his heartbeat, Eleanor felt the first sliver of safety she had known since falling into this world.
Her exhausted body simply gave out. The darkness rushed in, and she went limp in his arms.
Jace caught her easily. He stood up, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing.
Torches flickered through the trees. Amos and Clay burst into the clearing, spears raised, panting heavily. They stopped dead, staring at the massacred wolves and their leader holding the strange female.
Jace shot them a cold, warning glare. He didn't say a word. He adjusted his grip on Eleanor and began the long walk back to the tribe.
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.
9.1
When is the worst time to tell someone he's going to be a father?
Probably the day of the wedding...
When he is getting married to someone else.
Well, that is exactly what I did.
But my hands were tied.
Literally.
Matvey Groza is a dangerous man.
And nine months ago, he strolled into my shop looking for a custom suit.
But when I accidentally walked in on him in the changing room,
*I* was the one that ended up needing a new set of clothes.
It was a one-time mistake.
After that... good riddance.
But the pregnancy test I took a month later had other plans.
I kept it a secret from everyone.
Or so I thought.
But when Matvey's enemies learned that I was pregnant with his child,
they kidnapped me and held me hostage.
Until I broke free and ran as fast as I could.
And I had no one else to turn to but the devil himself.
What better time for me to enter the church...
... than as the pastor says, "Speak now or forever hold your peace"?
8.6
I was the untouchable Mafia Queen, but my reign ended in the blood-soaked depths of a damp dungeon.
My half-sister, Kelsey, drove a rusted, sharpened spoon into my chest, screaming about the unfairness of fate.
In my past life, my father sold me to the ruthless Don Dante Blackwell as collateral to pay off his debts.
To survive, I took a black-market fertility drug, birthed his heir, and clawed my way to the throne through sheer ruthlessness.
But in the mafia world, a pregnant woman isn't a queen; she's a walking target.
I survived countless bombings and poisonings, only to be betrayed and slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand. I had sacrificed everything to secure our survival in the empire. Why did my blood and tears only earn me a rusted spoon to the heart?
Opening my eyes again, I am seventeen, sitting in my father's drawing room.
Two black velvet boxes sit on the mahogany table.
Kelsey greedily snatches the box containing the fertility drug, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph.
"I'll take this one, Papa."
She thinks she is stealing my golden ticket to the crown, completely unaware that she just chose a death sentence.
I lower my gaze, letting my eyelashes mask the cold, lethal amusement pooling in my eyes as I take the remaining box.
Inside is the detailed psychological profile of the Don's dead fiancée.
This time, I won't be a breeding mare fighting off assassins. I will dissect the devil himself.
8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.
9.4
I spent the night with a stranger...
Who got me pregnant...
And turned out to be my boss...
Whoops, sorry, did I say "boss"? I meant a MOB boss.
To be fair, I didn't know he was my boss when I slept with him.
I thought he was just the kind stranger offering me a place to stay.
But one night in Misha Orlov's hotel room got me way more than I bargained for.
It got me champagne that tasted like starlight.
Satin sheets as soft as a dream.
And a man with silver eyes who showed me how it felt to come undone.
And then, in the morning...
He was gone.
That's I needed to get my life together anyway.
After all, my ex-not-quite-husband (it's a long story) just emptied all our bank accounts and disappeared, taking my home and my money and my job with him.
So I'm starting from a blank slate.
I find myself a new apartment.
A new job.
And I put both Misha and my husband behind me.
At least, I thought I did.
Until Day 1 of orientation.
When I learn that Misha Orlov is my new boss.
That's bad enough.
What's worse is what came next.
A car crash.
A doctor's appointment.
And two pieces of unsettling news.
Congratulations, the doctor says. You're pregnant.
Congratulations, Misha says. You and I are getting married.