The Villainous Matriarch's Secretly Pampered Wolf Consorts
Ella was a dedicated veterinary surgeon in New York. But when she opened her eyes again, she woke up in a brutal, magical world.
Before she could even process her surroundings, a jagged bone dagger smashed into her pillow, missing her jugular by an inch.
The assassin was a young wolf beastman, glaring at her with bloodshot, feral hatred.
Memories crashed into her brain. She had transmigrated into the body of Ella Ortiz, a sadistic matriarch who tortured her bound beastman consorts for sport.
The original owner had just whipped the wolf boy's older brother with a flesh-rotting toxin, leaving him chained in the dungeon to die of sepsis. She had even banished a blinded leopard to a monster-infested forest.
They hated her enough to kill her, but they were bound by the Beast Mark. If she died, their energy cores would detonate instantly.
To save the dying brother, Ella had to rely on a newly activated Villain System.
But there was a sick catch: she could only buy modern, life-saving medicine by earning "Animosity Points."
She had to act like the cruel, arrogant tyrant they despised.
To harvest their hatred, she had to secretly heal their horrific wounds while publicly kicking them, mocking them, and violently abusing them.
As an animal lover, seeing these traumatized beastmen tremble in fear at her feet tore her heart to shreds. Why did she have to be a monster just to keep them breathing?
But watching the dying wolf finally breathe steadily after she secretly injected him with a serum, she made her choice.
If playing the psychopath was the only way to keep her consorts alive, she would be the greatest villain this world had ever seen.
"Pack your gear," Ella ordered her trembling guards, crushing her guilt beneath a cold sneer. "We are going into the Mist Forest to find that blind leopard."
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Chapter 3
Kevan stared at her, his gray eyes wide with shock. He stumbled backward, then turned and sprinted down the dark corridor, his footsteps echoing wildly.
Ella turned back to the cell. She reached out and pulled a heavy iron ring of keys from a hook on the wall.
She stepped up to the iron grate. She shoved the largest key into the rusted lock. It ground against the metal with a loud, ear-piercing screech that echoed through the dead silence of the dungeon.
Daulton watched her every move. His muscles were coiled tight. A low, warning growl rumbled in his throat, but he didn't dare step forward to stop her.
Ella pushed the heavy iron door open.
The stench of necrotic tissue hit her like a physical wall. She gagged, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.
What the hell, she cursed internally. She forced herself to breathe through her mouth, treating this exactly like walking into the worst, most neglected animal hoarding case back in New York. She locked her emotions away and let her clinical training take over.
She walked straight up to Cordaro.
He was a massive man, easily over six-foot-three, built with thick, dense muscle meant for hunting giant monsters. Now, he looked fragile.
Sensing someone approaching, Cordaro's survival instincts flared. He was half-unconscious, but his lips curled back, exposing sharp, terrifying canine teeth. A weak, rattling snarl tore from his throat.
His eyes were glazed over, unfocused and cloudy, but they still burned with a stubborn refusal to die.
Ella ignored his warning. She didn't hesitate. She crouched down and reached her hand straight toward his rotting chest.
"No!" Daulton gasped from the doorway, terrified she was going to dig her nails into his brother's open wounds.
But Ella's hand stopped an inch above the ruined flesh. She didn't touch him. She just hovered her palm there, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.
It was like holding her hand over a lit stove. His fever was dangerously high.
Her veterinary instincts processed the data instantly. The toxin had bypassed his muscular tissue and invaded the lymphatic system. This wasn't a surface infection anymore. His organs were cooking from the inside out.
Cordaro felt the slight shift in air currents from her hand. His body violently convulsed in pain. The heavy iron chains rattled loudly against the stone wall.
Ella looked up at his face. His deep, charcoal-gray wolf ears were plastered flat against his skull, a universal animal sign of extreme distress and submission to pain.
A fierce wave of protectiveness surged in Ella's chest.
Without thinking, she softened her posture. She leaned in slightly, and she whispered under her breath, uttering a strange, melodic string of syllables he had never heard before.
"You poor, big guy."
The words were barely a breath, but Cordaro was a wolf beastman. His hearing was infinitely sharper than a human's.
Even through the thick fog of his fever, his ears twitched. He caught the sound. It was a tone of pure, unfiltered pity. It was a sound that the cruel, sadistic Ella Ortiz had never made in her entire life.
Cordaro's thick eyelashes fluttered. He fought against the heavy weight of his eyelids, trying desperately to focus on the face of the woman crouching in front of him.
Before he could clear his vision, the darkness dragged him back under. His head slumped forward.
Footsteps slapped against the stone floor outside. Kevan rushed back into the cell, carrying a wooden basin filled with steaming hot water.
He stopped dead in his tracks. He saw Ella crouching near Cordaro. She wasn't holding a whip. She wasn't pressing salt into his wounds. She was just looking at him.
The sheer confusion on Kevan's face was obvious.
Ella heard Kevan's ragged breathing. She instantly wiped the pity off her face, replacing it with a mask of deep disgust.
She stood up abruptly. She snatched the basin from Kevan's hands and deliberately slammed it down onto the stone floor.
Water splashed everywhere, hissing as it hit the cold rock.
A splash of scalding water hit Daulton's boots. He jumped back, his amber eyes flaring with renewed hostility.
"Clean the filthy blood off his chest," Ella ordered Kevan, her voice dripping with contempt. "And do it fast. The smell is making me sick."
Kevan didn't dare disobey. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the searing pain in his own sliced hands. He dipped a rag into the hot water and began to carefully, agonizingly wipe away the crusted blood around Cordaro's wounds.
Ella stood a few feet away, her arms crossed. Her eyes were locked on the texture of the wounds, her brain calculating the massive dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics he would need to survive this.
Hot water wasn't going to do a damn thing. This world didn't have IV drips or modern medicine. She had to rely on that stupid System.
She screamed in her mind. Lex Cantor! How do I get medicine for this?
[Host must accumulate Animosity Points to purchase the High-Tier Healing Serum from the System Shop, ] the cold voice replied.
Ella ground her teeth together. She looked at Daulton and Kevan. They were terrified of her, but they didn't hate her enough right now. She needed points, fast.
She suddenly lashed out, kicking the wooden basin with her heavy leather boot.
It flipped over with a loud crash, spilling the remaining hot water across the floor.
"You are too slow!" Ella screamed at Kevan.
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7.7
Nora's life turned into a nightmare after she was banished from her pack by her own husband. She was subjected to mockery, abuse and humiliation before being cast out with nothing.
Faced with the cruelty of a world that had never once been kind to her, the moon goddess decided to bless her with her fated mate.
The same man she watched slaughter others without a single trace of mercy. The man who was twice as cold and twice as ruthless as the husband who destroyed her.
Yet he would not let her go. She found herself stuck between the husband who used her and the ruthless mate who wanted her but refused to admit it. Two powerful men. One woman who was never supposed to survive any of it. And a moon goddess who was not done with her yet.
8.3
When Eli is forced to enroll at Blackwood Academy, he thinks it is just another remote boarding school. But on his first night, he realizes the terrifying truth.
This school is a prison.
Trapped in endless, deadly time loops, students are forced to complete cruel, supernatural trials. Ghosts, cursed hallways, hidden rules, and unspeakable creatures hunt them after dark. The only way to stay alive is to solve mysteries, earn credits, and obey the academy's twisted commands.
No one remembers how they arrived.
No one has ever graduated.
No one leaves alive.
Eli must team up with other desperate students to uncover the academy's century-old secret. If they fail, they will be trapped in the nightmare forever.
At Blackwood Academy, survival is the only exam.
7.1
The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.
8.5
Sera was the obedient, spoiled Hollywood socialite of the Beaumont family, completely devoted to her fiancé, Ethan.
But her life ended in a freezing Eastern European warehouse, chained to a damp concrete floor.
Right before she died, her captors shoved the transfer documents in her face. Ethan had sold her to human traffickers to cover his massive underground gambling debts.
While she suffered in absolute hell, her adoptive mother went on national television.
She squeezed out fake tears, publicly framing Sera for stealing family funds and eloping with a secret lover.
Sera's reputation was completely destroyed, and she was left to die a miserable, agonizing death in the dark.
She didn't understand why her family treated her like a disposable piece of trash.
She understood even less how the man who promised to marry her could hand her over to monsters without a second thought.
When she opened her eyes again, the biting cold and heavy iron chains were gone.
She was back five years in the past.
She was lying on a hotel bed, her limbs heavy with date-rape drugs, while a predatory Hollywood director hovered inches from her face.
It was the exact "exclusive audition" Ethan had arranged to exploit her for the very first time.
Sera didn't scream. With lethal, practiced precision, she shattered the director's wrist and brought a heavy crystal ashtray down on his skull.
The bleeding man collapsed onto the carpet and whimpered.
"Ethan promised... he said you'd be compliant..."
Staring at his pathetic face, a cold, predatory smile stretched across Sera's lips.
This time, she was going to systematically dismantle their lives.
7.2
Aria Nightshade spent her entire life waiting for one thing: the moment her fated mate would claim her, making her Luna. But on the night of her bonding ceremony, Liam Draven rejects her in front of the entire pack-publicly, brutally, without hesitation. He chooses another woman. Leaves her shattered.
Humiliated beyond repair, Aria prepares to disappear into whatever's left of her dignity.
Then the Alpha King intervenes.
Kael Draven-feared, untouchable, a man who answers to no one-steps between them and claims her himself. Not out of mercy. Not out of love. For reasons he refuses to explain, he binds her to him with magic older than the packs themselves, then hauls her to his fortress and locks her in a tower.
Aria should be terrified.
Instead, she's angry. Defiant. And increasingly aware that the man holding her captive isn't quite what he seems.
Kael is cold, calculated, and obsessed with understanding what she is-a wolf who shouldn't have survived a bond rupture, who shouldn't be standing, who shouldn't exist. As he slowly reveals the truth about her past and her bloodline, Aria discovers that her rejection was never about her worth. It was about her power. The kind of power that could reshape the entire werewolf hierarchy.
But Liam can't accept his loss. Kael's protection becomes possession. And Aria's slow transformation from broken girl to something far more dangerous forces her to choose: remain the victim they all rejected, or rise as the Luna that will make them all bow.
Even if it means destroying everything-and everyone-she once cared about.
8.0
I bought an antique four-poster bed at Sotheby's, said to be the final resting place of a long-dead European king.
A week later, I woke up to the thick smell of blood, only to find a massive, heavily wounded man in my bed holding a forged steel sword to my throat.
He was dressed in ruined velvet and gold, bleeding out from a massive abdominal gash. When I tried to save him with modern medicine, he called it sorcery and nearly choked me to death. He destroyed my expensive appliances, treating my home like a witch's lair. I thought he was a lunatic cosplayer who broke in, until he tossed me a massive ruby ring as a down payment for my help. I looked it up online. It was the lost coronation ring of King Cain the Cruel, valued at thirty million dollars.
I was terrified of this savage who could snap my neck in an instant. I couldn't comprehend how a tyrant who had been dead for 135 years was breathing in my attic, until he lay back down on the antique mattress and literally vanished into thin air before my eyes.
The bed was a time portal.
The police would lock him in a psych ward and confiscate the priceless artifact, leaving me with nothing but bloodstained sheets and trauma.
"I can give you more wealth than you can imagine."
So, when he reappeared and offered me the lost Fabergé eggs of his fallen empire in exchange for modern shelter, I didn't call 911. I took his hand and became the 21st-century gatekeeper for a time-traveling king.