Branded By The Devil's Cruel Kiss
Elie Joyce’s entire life was controlled by Ebert Ewing, a ruthless billionaire who held her sick grandmother's survival and her family's freedom in his hands.
But on a freezing, stormy night, he forced her into a scandalous scrap of red silk and handed her over to a notorious, disgusting predator.
"You aren't an escort. You're just a free gift."
Ebert mocked her, using her as a disposable bargaining chip to secure a corporate funding round.
When the predator humiliated her, forced high-proof vodka down her throat, and violently pinned her to the floor, Ebert simply watched with dead eyes.
And when Ebert finally intervened to brutally beat the man, it wasn't out of mercy.
"She is my property. Even if she is trash that I threw away, a filthy pig like you doesn't get to touch her."
Afterward, he dragged her battered, barefoot body into his car, only to kick her out into the torrential rain, leaving her on the dark streets to die.
Standing in the storm, shivering and bleeding from broken glass, the last shred of Elie's hope shattered.
She had sacrificed her dignity and soul, enduring his violent bites and cruel control, just to keep her family alive.
Why did she have to suffer this endless, twisted humiliation for a psychopath who only saw her as trash?
But she didn't break.
Tearing a strip of his expensive shirt to bandage her bleeding foot, Elie gripped her broken stiletto like a knife.
With her eyes turning cold and calculating, she limped out of the shadows.
She was going to survive, and Ebert Ewing would soon realize she was no longer his obedient prey.
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Chapter 4
The Maybach glided smoothly through the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan. It turned off the main avenue and onto a highly private, tree-lined driveway.
The car came to a slow stop under the grand, low-lit portico of the Red Leaf Club. Two rows of valets in crisp uniforms stood at attention.
Davin quickly stepped out of the passenger seat. He opened a massive black umbrella and pulled open the rear door.
Ebert stepped out first. His long legs carried him to the edge of the dry pavement. He turned his head, his cold eyes fixing on Elie still inside the car.
Elie took a deep breath. She pulled the black overcoat tightly around her body. Wearing the shoes that were a size too large, she forced herself to step out of the car.
The moment her stiletto hit the wet, polished marble of the driveway, her ankle rolled sharply. A spike of pain shot up her leg, and she pitched forward.
Ebert reacted with lightning speed. His long arm shot out, wrapping tightly around her narrow waist. He yanked her hard against his solid, hard chest.
Elie gasped. Her hands instinctively flew up, pressing flat against his chest to steady herself. She looked up, her eyes crashing into his deep, dark gaze.
For a fraction of a second, a memory flashed through Elie's mind. Three years ago, during a thunderstorm, he had caught her exactly like this. He had held her so warmly.
But the absolute ice in Ebert's eyes shattered the memory instantly.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear.
"Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
Elie bit her lip. She pushed against his shoulders, trying to stand up straight. But the large hand on her waist clamped down harder, locking her against him.
Suddenly, Ebert lowered his head. His mouth crashed down onto the pale, exposed skin of her neck.
Elie's eyes went wide. Her entire body stiffened in shock. She felt his teeth scrape against her skin, right over her pulse point. He sucked hard, biting down with a painful, punishing force.
"Stop!" she gasped, struggling wildly. She pushed at his chest with all her strength, but it was like trying to push a brick wall. He didn't move an inch.
A few seconds later, Ebert lifted his head. He raised his thumb and roughly wiped the saliva from her skin. He stared at the dark, purple-red bruise blooming on her neck with dark satisfaction.
"That," Ebert sneered, his voice dripping with malice, "is so Mortimer knows exactly whose property he's touching. Even when I give you away, you wear my brand."
A wave of absolute nausea and freezing cold washed over Elie. Her pride, her dignity, everything was crushed into the dirt by that single, violent mark.
Ebert let go of her waist. He calmly adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, instantly returning to his untouchable, aristocratic posture.
He looked at Davin. "Take her to the VIP suite on the top floor."
Ebert turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing down a different hallway of the club.
Elie stood frozen on the marble floor. The cold wind whipped around her legs. She watched his back disappear, feeling a profound, bottomless despair.
Davin gestured toward the entrance with a blank face. "This way, Miss Joyce."
Elie moved like a puppet with its strings cut. The pinching pain in her toes was nothing compared to the numbness in her chest. She followed Davin into the opulent, gold-trimmed lobby of the club.
Several wealthy New York socialites were lingering near the bar. They turned their heads, their eyes raking over Elie-a woman limping in a man's oversized coat. Their whispers and mocking stares felt like physical slaps.
Elie kept her head down. She dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that the skin broke. She forced herself to ignore them.
They entered a private, gold-plated elevator. Davin swiped a sleek black card. The elevator shot up to the top floor.
The doors slid open. The hallway was lined with thick, sound-absorbing carpet and expensive modern art.
Davin stopped in front of a pair of heavy mahogany doors with gold handles. The most exclusive suite in the club.
Davin turned to face her. His expression was completely devoid of sympathy.
"Take off the coat," Davin instructed coldly. "Mr. Finch does not like unnecessary layers."
Elie squeezed her eyes shut. A single, hot tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. She slowly pushed the heavy black coat off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a heap.
She stood there, shivering in the tiny red silk dress, the violent purple hickey fully exposed on her neck.
Davin pushed the heavy mahogany doors open.
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8.6
I was the youngest Paladin in history, the absolute pride of the Azure Blade.
But after a disastrous mission in the snow, I was falsely accused of slaughtering my own squad.
Grand Master Bernardo Rowe didn't just exile me; he surgically severed my connection to the magic Aether, turning me into a crippled mortal.
Desperate to survive, I tried to climb the Holy Stairs to reclaim my legendary sword, "Rebellion."
Instead of answering my call, my own blade shrieked in absolute rejection and blasted me down the thousand stone steps.
My bones snapped like dry twigs, and I was left in a pool of my own blood.
The pilgrims laughed at me. The guards declared me a lost cause and left me to rot in the dirt.
I should have died there, betrayed by the Order and the holy magic I once served.
But a silent, massive laborer named Cato Sims dragged my mangled body into the shadows.
He healed my shattered skeleton in mere days with impossible skill, yet he allowed lowly servants to spit on him and beat him just to keep my presence hidden.
I didn't understand why my holy sword had abandoned me, and I understood even less why this stranger was protecting a condemned criminal.
When I finally snapped and demanded to know his price for saving my life, he didn't ask for money or my body.
"The mountain does not forget its debts. I am reclaiming what was taken from it."
Staring into his unyielding eyes, I realized my exile wasn't the end, but the beginning of a terrifying truth.
7.3
I woke up strapped to a cold steel chair in a neon-lit city that wasn't my reality. A voice in my head called The Warden told me I was bound to a digital hell called the Sandbox.
Before I could even process it, my handler casually sentenced me to death. He scheduled my "digital marriage" to a corrupted error program just to harvest my life for a fourteen percent bandwidth boost.
I barely escaped immediate erasure by smashing his skull and jumping from a high-altitude hover-train into the monster-infested lower sector. But the nightmare was just beginning. I was hunted by glitching data monsters and cornered by Dameon, a psychotic AI target who choked me and promised to delete me piece by piece. Even when Jayson, an elite system agent, intervened to save me, his partner Ellen held a pulse pistol directly to my chest.
"She's a spy. If you don't execute her right now, I am dissolving this team."
If they found out I was actually a real human from the outside world, their core logic would classify me as a virus and execute me on the spot. I was trapped in an underground bunker with three apex predators, one mistake away from permanent digital erasure.
So, I did the only thing I could to survive. I ripped my sleeve to reveal hideous, fake code-scars, looked up at Jayson with terrified, tear-filled eyes, and began to manipulate their core programming.
9.5
He was born from the void between stars - a being of immense power, forged from cosmic origins.
For thousands of years, he walked among humanity, protecting them and keeping his true strength hidden. After losing the only family he had, grief led him to seek his own end... only to wake up in a world entirely unlike his own.
Here, cultivation is the main path to power. Those who master spirit qi gain superhuman strength, speed, and abilities that place them far above ordinary people. Four great sects rule the land, competing for resources, secrets, and dominance over each other.
Icaros joined the Li Sect, where he found companions he came to trust and care for: the capable and easygoing Li Han, the sharp and composed Su Yan, and the spirited Nelly. For a time, he felt he had found a place to belong, even as he kept his true nature hidden and wondered whether he could ever learn to cultivate like those around him.
Everything changed when their voyage was suddenly attacked. A powerful figure floating in the sky cut their ship apart with sharp, devastating energy strikes, leaving only destruction in his wake. Believing his friends had been lost in the disaster, Icaros chose to stop holding back any longer.
> "I am done hiding!"
He unleashed his full power: golden light blazed from his eyes, he flew at incredible speed, and he broke through every barrier and enemy in his way. On the shores ahead, he tore through hordes of powerful jade monsters, destroying them completely before flying deep into the interior of the island.
Meanwhile, survivors washed up scattered and alone. One young cultivator found himself on the shores of Jade Island - a place most cultivators avoid, as it holds no treasures or useful materials, only danger and endless deposits of ordinary jade. Yet despite the risks, ordinary people have built settlements here, finding safety from the conflicts and power struggles of the outside world.
This island works by different rules. Spirit qi is scarce and unstable, making cultivation far less effective than elsewhere. Instead, the people here rely on advanced technology - weapons and explosives that can injure or even defeat those with great physical strength. Here, skill and preparation can be just as powerful as raw strength, and even the strongest cultivators must move with caution.
Now, Icaros has vanished deep into the island. His companions are lost somewhere across this dangerous land. And the mysterious swordsman who destroyed their ship has already arrived here, searching for an ancient map said to lead to the legacy of a being from another world.
Will they find each other again? And can anyone survive in a place where the usual rules of power no longer hold true?
✅ Chapters 1–19: FREE
🔒 Chapters 20 onwards: PAID
(Continue the journey of power, friendship, and discovery!)
9.4
I was a New York photographer, but I woke up under the brutal sun of the African savanna.
Worse, I wasn't human. I was trapped in the body of a male cheetah, with two starving cubs clinging to my fur, telepathically calling me "Mom."
But I am a real man!
To keep my adopted sons alive, I had to fight hyenas and dodge rogue lions. But the real nightmare was my bizarre survival mechanism. Under extreme threat, I would uncontrollably shift back into my human form—stark, undeniably naked. I was forced to sprint across the plains with my bare skin exposed, carrying two cubs while escaping furious lionesses. I became a freak, the most confusing and humiliating legend of the animal kingdom.
Covered in bloody scratches and mud, I was pushed to the brink of despair. Why was I thrown into this beast's body? Why did my only defense mechanism involve profound social death?
Just when I barely survived a cliff dive to escape the lions, my path was blocked by two massive, highly intelligent prime male cheetahs.
But the alpha, Bradley, didn't want to kill me for my territory.
His intense gaze raked over my naked, bleeding human body with a dark, possessive hunger.
"You are full of surprises."
He purred smoothly, teaching me to magically summon a fur skirt before demanding I join his coalition.
"Oh, you'll come to me. I guarantee it."
Looking into his predatory eyes, I realized I was no longer just surviving the wild; I was the prey of a completely different kind of beast.
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain.
The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust.
Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits?
"Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis."
Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
8.3
For three years, I was the lowest Omega in the Blackwood Pack, hopelessly devoted to my Fated Mate, Alpha Kaelen.
But when I was mauled by rogues and bleeding out in the freezing forest, I desperately begged him for help through our mate link. He crushed his wolf’s instincts to save me and sent back a chilling thought before severing our connection completely.
"She is a mistake. Silence."
He didn't just leave me to die. The next morning, he dragged me before the entire pack, publicly rejected me, and let his people strip me of my clothes and dignity. They threw me out of the territory with nothing but a scratchy burlap sack, expecting the deadly wilderness to claim my life by nightfall.
I thought my life was over, until I stumbled upon a hidden sanctuary in the woods and uncovered a horrific truth. I wasn't just a worthless Omega. I was the last surviving Matron Luna of the legendary Mooncrest Pack—a powerful pack that Kaelen's own father had brutally massacred decades ago out of pure jealousy.
He thought he had discarded a piece of trash, entirely unaware of the blood feud between our families. He didn't know he had just set me free.
Now, with my ancient powers awakening and my lost people gathering by my side, I am going to make the Alpha who threw me away pay for every drop of blood his family spilled.