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 7
Ella stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the heavy, suffocating layers of her dark crimson and black gown. It was the traditional attire of the estate's matriarch, designed to look imposing and severe.
She stepped out of the estate gates, flanked by Kevan and Daulton.
The moment her boots hit the cobblestone street leading to the central plaza, the atmosphere shifted. The bustling noise of the market died instantly.
The beastmen and commoners lining the streets stopped what they were doing. They turned to look at her, their faces twisting into masks of pure, unfiltered hatred and fear. Mothers pulled their children behind them. Men gripped the hilts of their hunting knives.
Someone from the back of the crowd spat a wad of phlegm onto the cobblestones near her feet.
"Poisonous witch," a voice hissed from the shadows. "Harbinger of ruin."
Daulton walked on Ella's right. Despite his hatred for her, his warrior instincts kicked in. His muscles coiled tight, his amber eyes scanning the hostile crowd, ready to fight.
Kevan walked on her left. He kept his head bowed, the hood of his tattered cloak pulled low, hiding his face. He was used to this. Being bound to the tyrant meant sharing her infamy.
Ella kept her chin high and her face completely blank. Inside, she was screaming. Just how many people did this original body torture to earn this level of hatred?
They broke through the crowd and entered the massive central plaza.
In the center stood a raised wooden platform covered in thousands of expensive, blooming white roses. Standing amidst the flowers was a woman in a flowing, pure white dress. She had soft blonde hair and a face that radiated gentle innocence.
Kendra Klein. The Saintess.
When the crowd saw Kendra, their hatred vanished, replaced by a fanatical, feverish worship. Deafening cheers erupted, praising her name.
Ella rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck in the back of her head. It was the classic, textbook setup of a manipulative, two-faced villainess.
Kendra spotted Ella. Her face lit up with a brilliant, joyful smile. She lifted the hem of her white dress and practically floated down the steps of the platform, running toward them.
"Sister!" Kendra cried out, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness. She reached out, trying to link her arm affectionately through Ella's.
Ella didn't miss a beat. She violently yanked her arm away, slapping Kendra's hand back with a loud smack.
The crowd gasped in collective outrage.
Kendra stumbled back a half-step. Her large blue eyes instantly filled with unshed tears. She looked down at her red hand, the perfect picture of a bullied, innocent victim trying to stay strong.
"I'm sorry, sister," Kendra whispered, loud enough for the front row to hear. "I just missed you."
Kendra then turned her teary gaze to Daulton and Kevan. A flash of cold calculation passed through her eyes, gone so fast Ella almost missed it.
"Oh, by the Primal Deity!" Kendra gasped, covering her mouth. "Your wounds... they look so much better! I prayed all night for you both. I begged the Deity to let my holy water ease your suffering. It worked!"
The crowd erupted again, shouting praises for the Saintess's boundless mercy. She even heals the tyrant's dirty pets!
Daulton's ears perked up. The hostility in his eyes melted away. He looked at Kendra with profound, genuine gratitude, even bowing his head slightly in respect.
Ella ground her teeth together. She wanted to scream that she was the one who spent her points and risked her life to heal them, but the System's rules kept her mouth shut. She had to swallow the injustice.
But Kevan didn't bow.
He stood perfectly still, his gray eyes locked onto Kendra. There was no gratitude in his gaze. Only a cold, piercing observation.
Kendra stepped closer to Kevan. She raised her hand, a faint, glowing white light radiating from her palm. "Let me see your hands, poor thing. Let me finish healing them."
As her hand reached out, Kevan took a smooth, deliberate step backward.
He completely avoided her touch.
"I wouldn't want to dirty the Saintess's pure hands," Kevan said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
Kendra's hand froze in mid-air. A muscle in her jaw twitched with hidden fury, but she quickly masked it with a sad, understanding smile. "Of course. I understand your trauma."
Ella couldn't take the fake acting anymore. She let out a loud, mocking laugh that cut through the plaza.
"Prayers?" Ella sneered loudly. "Your little light show is nothing but cheap parlor tricks, Kendra. You couldn't heal a paper cut if your life depended on it."
The words were absolute heresy.
The crowd went feral. A massive beastman near the front roared in anger. He bent down, scooped up a jagged piece of cobblestone, and hurled it directly at Ella's head.
Daulton saw the rock coming. His instinct was to dodge, to let the tyrant take the hit.
But before the rock could connect, a shadow moved.
Kevan stepped directly in front of Ella, his face pale with the sudden realization that if she died here, the Beast Mark would instantly detonate his own core. He reached out, intending to shove her out of the trajectory, but he miscalculated the speed of the projectile. As he twisted to push her aside, he inadvertently exposed his own back to the angry mob.
Thud.
The heavy stone slammed into Kevan's spine. He grunted, his body jerking forward, but he didn't fall. He stayed planted firmly between Ella and the angry mob.
Ella stared at his back, completely stunned. Why would the man she had supposedly tortured for years take a rock for her?
Kendra quickly raised her hands, projecting her voice over the crowd. "Please! Stop! Do not hurt my sister, no matter how lost she is!"
The crowd slowly calmed down under her soothing voice, but their glares remained fixed on Ella.
Ella didn't care about the crowd anymore. She stared at the dust on Kevan's cloak, a deep, unsettling suspicion taking root in her mind.
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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.