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 5
The heavy mahogany doors swung open. Elie stepped into the room. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps. Her toes throbbed in the tight heels. Her movements were stiff, mechanical.
The VIP suite was massive. The lights were dimmed to a sultry, dark amber. The air was thick and heavy, suffocating her with the smell of expensive cigars, spilled alcohol, and cheap, overpowering perfume.
Davin pulled the doors shut behind her. The soft click of the lock engaging severed her last connection to the outside world.
Elie's eyes scanned the room. In the center sat a massive, U-shaped leather sofa.
Right in the middle of the sofa sat Mortimer Finch. He was a heavily overweight man with thinning hair and a flushed, sweaty face.
But what made the blood freeze in Elie's veins was the man sitting on the single armchair to the right.
Ebert Ewing.
He was already there. He held a martini glass in his hand, his legs crossed, his expression completely bored and detached.
Mortimer's eyes snapped toward the door. His gaze locked onto Elie. His eyes crawled over the thin red silk clinging to her curves, lingering on the expanse of her bare skin. It was the look of a starving predator.
Then, Mortimer's eyes landed on her neck. He saw the angry, purple-red hickey.
Mortimer's thick eyebrows shot up. A greasy, highly suggestive smile spread across his face.
"Mr. Ewing," Mortimer laughed loudly, his voice grating. "The 'gift' you brought me is absolutely exquisite. And the packaging... very kinky. I like it."
Ebert slowly swirled the clear liquid in his martini glass. He didn't even look at Elie.
"As long as Mr. Finch is pleased," Ebert said, his voice flat and businesslike. "I trust the Series C funding will proceed without any further delays."
Hearing herself being traded like a piece of meat for a corporate funding round made Elie's stomach violently cramp. She felt physically sick. Her fingernails dug deeper into the bleeding crescents in her palms.
Mortimer patted the empty leather cushion right next to his thick thigh.
"Come here, sweetheart. Sit next to me," Mortimer commanded, his voice dripping with lust.
Elie's legs felt like they were made of lead. She couldn't move. She turned her head and looked at Ebert. Her eyes were wide, silently begging him. Please. Don't do this.
Ebert took a slow sip of his martini. He deliberately looked away, staring at the wall. He completely ignored her plea.
The last shred of hope died inside Elie. She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. She forced her leaden legs to move. She walked over and sat down stiffly on the very edge of the cushion next to Mortimer.
The second she sat down, Mortimer's large, sweaty hand clamped down heavily onto her bare thigh.
Elie flinched violently. She instinctively jerked her body away from him.
But Mortimer's other arm shot out, wrapping around her narrow waist. He yanked her hard against his side, pinning her against his bulky body.
The overpowering stench of his cologne mixed with the smell of stale alcohol and bad breath hit Elie's face. She held her breath, fighting the intense, physical urge to vomit.
Sitting across from them, Ebert watched Mortimer's arm wrap around Elie's waist. The fingers holding his martini glass tightened abruptly. His knuckles turned stark white against the crystal.
But his face remained a perfect, frozen mask of indifference. He made no move to stop it.
Mortimer picked up a glass filled to the brim with straight, high-proof vodka from the table. He shoved it directly against Elie's lips.
"Drink it," Mortimer ordered.
Elie turned her head away, pressing her lips tightly together. "I... I don't drink," she managed to say.
Mortimer's greasy smile vanished. He grabbed her chin roughly, his thick fingers digging into her jawbone.
"If you don't drink, you're disrespecting Mr. Ewing," Mortimer threatened.
Elie's eyes darted to Ebert.
Ebert stared at her with dead eyes. "Drink it," he commanded coldly.
Those two words were the final blow. They shattered whatever was left of her soul. A look of absolute, dead resignation washed over her eyes.
Elie took the glass from Mortimer's hand. She tilted her head back and downed the entire glass of straight vodka in one go.
The liquid was like liquid fire. It burned a path down her throat and exploded in her empty stomach.
Elie immediately began to cough violently. The harsh coughing racked her small frame. Tears sprang to her eyes, turning the edges of her eyes a painful, bright red.
Mortimer threw his head back and laughed. Taking advantage of her coughing fit, he slid his sweaty hand higher up her thigh, his fingers moving dangerously close to the edge of the silk dress.
Elie's body shook like a leaf in a hurricane. She slammed her hand down, grabbing Mortimer's thick wrist to stop his hand. She was panting heavily.
She forced her head up. Her eyes were bloodshot and watering.
"Excuse me," she choked out, her voice raspy and broken. "I need to use the restroom."
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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.