Reborn To Tame The Insomniac Monster
I thought my best friend Mila and my lover Preston were my only salvation from Essex Langley, the ruthless billionaire who kept me caged in his estate.
I trusted them blindly when they planned my grand escape.
But it was all a cruel setup.
Mila deliberately leaked the plan to Essex's guards to win his favor, and Preston only wanted my family's shares to pay off his massive debts.
When we were caught in the rose garden, Preston shoved me toward the guards and ran for his life.
"You're insane if you think I actually loved a freak like you!"
I was dragged back into the manor, my ribs cracking under heavy boots.
I bled out on the freezing marble floor, staring into Essex’s unhinged, mad eyes as I took my last agonizing breath.
Until the moment I died, I couldn't accept it.
I had ruined my own life, adopting a hideous punk look with fake tattoos and piercings just to make Essex hate me, all for two people who saw me as nothing but a sacrificial lamb.
Why was my blind rebellion rewarded with such a brutal betrayal?
Opening my eyes again, the white-hot pain was gone.
I was back in the freezing bedroom on my eighteenth birthday, the very night Mila would come to orchestrate my ruin.
I looked at the rebellious, smudged stranger in the mirror.
This time, I calmly washed off the black makeup, took out my lip ring, and put on a pristine white dress.
If fighting the devil got me killed, then in this life, I would tame him and make them all pay.
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Chapter 2
Sunlight hit Clora square in the face, pulling her out of a restless doze. She sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing the grit from her eyes. She hadn't slept, but her mind felt sharper than it had in years. The fog of the past life was gone, burned away by the cold reality of survival.
A sharp knock came at the door before it cracked open. One of the maids stepped in, carrying a silver tray. The woman kept her eyes down, her face a mask of professional distance. She set the tray on the small table by the window and left without a word.
Essex's eyes and ears. Of course.
Clora walked over to the tray. Fresh fruit, toast, black coffee. She sat down and took a slow bite of the toast, chewing mechanically while her brain ran through the upcoming scenario.
Seven years ago-no, in this timeline, just days ago-Mila Thorne had walked through that door with red-rimmed eyes and a trembling voice. She had held Clora's hand and told her how awful Essex was, how she needed to get out. And like an idiot, Clora had eaten it up. She had let Mila fuel her anger, let her arrange that disastrous meeting with Preston.
Not this time.
The doorbell chimed downstairs. Faint, but audible.
A minute later, the maid returned. "Miss Parrish? A Miss Thorne is here to see you."
Clora's hand paused halfway to her coffee cup. Right on schedule.
"Send her in," Clora said, her voice flat.
She quickly rearranged her face. She dropped her shoulders, letting them hunch inward. She widened her eyes, making them look wet and haunted, and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if she was trying to hold herself together.
The door opened.
Mila Thorne swept in, wearing a pale pink sundress that probably cost more than a month's rent. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, and her face was painted with a look of absolute devastation.
"Oh, Clora!" Mila rushed across the room, her arms outstretched. She pulled Clora into a tight hug, burying her face in Clora's shoulder. "I was so worried! When I heard what happened... are you okay? Did that monster hurt you?"
Clora stood stiffly in the embrace. As Mila leaned in, a scent hit her nose. Sandalwood and dark musk. Essex's cologne.
Bile rose in Clora's throat. She hadn't noticed it before. She had been too blind, too desperate for affection to realize that her best friend smelled like her captor. Mila had been wearing it like a badge of honor, a sign of how close she wanted to get to the king.
Clora pulled back, breaking the hug. She lowered her head, letting her messy hair fall forward to hide her expression. "I'm fine, Mila."
Mila guided her over to the small sofa, sitting down close enough that their knees touched. "Look at you, you're shaking," Mila cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "It's okay, I'm here now. He can't touch you while I'm here."
Clora nodded along, letting out a small sniffle. She watched Mila from under her lashes. The woman was practically vibrating with excitement, barely able to contain her glee under the mask of concern.
Mila patted Clora's hand, her expression hardening into something serious. "Clora, you can't just give up. You can't let him break you. Preston... Preston has been out of his mind. He's been calling me every night."
Here it comes.
Clora looked up, making sure her eyes looked lost and desperate. "Preston? But... what can he do?"
A malicious glint flashed in Mila's eyes, so quick Clora would have missed it if she hadn't been looking for it. Mila leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I have a way to get him in to see you. Tonight."
Clora felt a chill run down her spine. It was exactly the same. Mila had bribed one of the gardeners, a guy who worked the night shift on the east wall. She was going to sneak Preston onto the grounds.
And at the exact same time, Mila would "accidentally" let it slip to one of Essex's guards that she was worried about Clora's mental state. She would paint a picture of a suicidal runaway, guaranteeing that Essex would come looking for her the second Preston stepped foot in the garden.
It was a perfect setup for a tragedy.
Clora twisted her fingers in the hem of her shirt, making her hands look nervous. "But... if Essex finds out..."
Mila squeezed her hand hard, cutting her off. "I'll handle everything. I promise, it will be completely secret. No one will know. You just have to trust me."
Clora stared into Mila's bright, eager eyes. She wanted to laugh. Trust her? The woman who had orchestrated her downfall.
She forced her lips into a wobbly, grateful smile. "Mila... thank you. You're the best friend I've ever had."
Mila beamed, the picture of a supportive companion. In her mind, the trap was set. The stupid little rebel was going to walk right into the fire, and Mila would be there to fan the flames.
They talked for a few more minutes, Mila offering more empty platitudes before standing up to leave. "Get some rest. Tonight will be your chance."
Clora watched the door close behind her. The second the latch clicked, the fragile, scared expression melted off her face like ice under a blowtorch.
She stood up and walked over to the window. Down in the circular driveway, Mila was getting into her red convertible. She was probably already texting Preston, telling him the plan was a go.
Clora turned away from the window. She walked over to the breakfast tray and picked up the small silver fruit knife. She picked up an apple from the bowl and started peeling it, her movements slow and deliberate. The ribbon of red skin fell onto the white plate in one unbroken spiral.
In her last life, she had been the apple, carved up and thrown away. In this life, she was going to hold the knife.
She looked at her reflection in the polished silver blade. Her eyes were cold, calculating.
Tonight's show was going to be spectacular. But first, she needed to make sure the star of the show-Essex Langley-was watching.
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8.9
Just hours after I endured a grueling labor to give Kaelen, my fated mate and the Alpha, two beautiful twins, he walked into the infirmary.
Instead of holding our newborns, his Alpha aura pinned me to the bed as he coldly announced, "I reject you as my mate."
He claimed I reeked of another Alpha. His sister Vanessa threw a stack of photos at my face, showing me at a cafe with a broad-shouldered man. Before I could even explain, Kaelen forced a pen into my trembling hand while I was still bleeding, making me sign away my parental rights. His mother then snatched my newborn son Liam from the crib.
"Take the girl and get out of my territory," Kaelen commanded, leaving me in the freezing room with my severed mate-bond and my crying daughter.
I didn't understand how our sacred bond could be shattered by a single fake photo, or how my fated mate could be so blind and ruthless as to rip my baby from my arms.
Five years later, his precious heir is dying, and Kaelen desperately needs an alliance and a bone marrow donor. But when he finally sees me at a high-society gala, he doesn't find a broken, exiled Omega.
He finds me standing beside that very same "lover"—Dominic, the Alpha of the Silverwood Pack, my older brother. And this time, I am the one holding the blade.
7.1
The captain is dead to the world. And I'm the only one holding the kill switch.
Ethan Carter, the "Glacier of Silvercrest," was the most feared Alpha to ever step onto the ice. Now, he's nothing but a shell-a broken, comatose legend trapped in his own body.
My life? It was supposed to be simple. Graduate, survive the pack's bottom-tier status, and pay off my father's ruinous blood-debts. Instead, the pack elders handed me a contract soaked in cold, hard malice: I am the designated "Stabilizer." My only job is to touch him, scent him, and keep his wolf from flatlining.
I thought I was just a glorified nurse. I didn't realize the Alpha was listening.
When Ethan finally wakes, he isn't the hero the Kingdom of Valeria remembers. He's a starving predator with amber eyes that burn holes through my defenses and a temperament that makes the frost in the mansion seem warm. He hates the bargain, he hates the pack, and-most dangerously-he hates the way his scent turns wild whenever I'm near.
He wants me out of his sight. I want to be out of his reach.
But in a pack built on secrets, someone is still trying to finish the job they started on his life. Now, the man who wants me gone is the only one who can protect me. And as the rink turns into a battlefield, I'm realizing the most dangerous thing about the Alpha isn't his temper... it's the fact that once he claims a mate, he doesn't know how to let go.
Frozen hearts are meant to shatter. But in the fire of this pack, we're both going to burn.
7.3
For a thousand years, the Vora beastmen have been cursed by a madness-a burning sickness in their blood that only one thing can soothe: the legendary 'Blood-Blessed,' a human female whose very scent is a living cure.
When a virus wiped out nearly all females, their desperate hunt for this mythical girl turned into a brutal conquest. They crushed our fallen human kingdoms, reducing us to breathing meat under their cruel "Livestock Codex."
To save my little sister from being branded for their elite breeding auction, I took her place in the male-only death draft.
Disguised as a boy, I was thrown into a pitch-black labyrinth, a living sacrifice meant to feed their ultimate nightmare: the feral, half-dragon Mad King.
He tore our steel cage apart like wet paper. I pressed my back against the freezing wall, watching in horror as he slaughtered the screaming men around me.
He ripped the filthy coat from my body, exposing my true gender. As his crimson eyes locked onto my throat and he opened his jaws for the kill, my rage burned away my fear.
I was a pureblood heiress of a dead empire, but I would not die cowering like an animal. I gripped a shard of glass, ready to aim for his eye.
But as he lunged, the glass sliced my palm. The moment my blood hit the air, the legend became my reality. The sweet, intoxicating scent that flooded the dark wasn't just my pheromones-it was the living cure.
The terrifying, apocalyptic tyrant froze mid-strike. He dropped his massive body to his knees, his fangs retracting as he gently, desperately licked my bleeding hand.
His chaotic red eyes darkened with an absolute, world-ending obsession as he pulled my fragile body against his burning chest.
"Mine."
I was meant to be his final meal. They called me the Blood-Blessed. He called me his Queen.
9.6
Antoinette stood on the manicured church lawn, the blinding summer sun stabbing her eyes. The funeral service for her parents had just ended.
A hand wrapped around her trembling shoulder, carrying the sharp, cloying scent of Fabian Cash's cologne. It was the exact same cologne her fiancé wore the night he locked her in a burning house to die in her previous life.
Now, wearing a mask of sorrowful devotion, Fabian tried to drag her to his car to control her parents' massive life insurance payout.
When she shoved him away in pure nausea, his mother Eleanor immediately shrieked to the crowd, deploying her usual guilt trip.
"She's lost her mind! The girl has completely snapped!"
The townspeople whispered and pointed fingers, watching Fabian play the victim as he tightened his bruising grip on her wrist, claiming she was hysterical and needed to be locked away.
Antoinette stared at the mother and son who had conspired to steal her family's estate and end her life. The rage inside her felt like battery acid pumping through her veins.
They didn't care if she lived or died; they only cared about the money. How could she let them strip her of everything again?
She didn't hesitate. She swung with every bit of strength she possessed, slapping Fabian across the face in front of the entire town.
"The engagement is over," she announced coldly.
Then, she turned her back on her greedy ex-fiancé and walked straight toward the terrifyingly powerful billionaire Hiram Graves, ready to let the world burn.
7.0
I was the fated mate of Ryker Blackwood, the future Alpha, but my lack of an awakened wolf made me a pathetic joke to his pack.
Instead of protecting me, he publicly rejected me, chose the manipulative Lilith Vane as his Luna, and locked me in a freezing dungeon.
While the entire pack cheered for their final mating ceremony above, I rotted in heavy chains below.
When a rogue attack killed our unborn pups, I reached out to him in agony, but his voice through our fading bond was like splintered ice.
"Our pups are dead. Don't bother me again."
He didn't care at all. The casual dismissal shattered my inner wolf, and I died in that filthy cell, suffocating on my own despair and a hatred so potent it burned through my last breath.
Until my last moment, I couldn't understand why my absolute devotion was met with such cruel betrayal, and why my fated mate let our children die without a second thought.
Opening my eyes again, I wasn't in the dungeon.
I was back in my seventeenth year, choking on the icy water of the lake Lilith had just pushed me into.
Seeing Ryker's arrogant sneer and Lilith's fake concern on the shore, I didn't cry or beg for his attention like I did in my past life.
This time, I would publicly sever our sacred bond, awaken my true Alpha bloodline, and make them pay for every drop of my blood.
8.7
Kaylee woke up to the smell of rotting leaves and blood, realizing she had transmigrated into the grimdark fantasy novel she was reading last night.
A robotic system in her head immediately delivered a death sentence: she was the tribe's vicious cannon fodder, and the male lead—a brutally tortured slave named Elijah—was currently dying on a totem pole outside.
"If he dies, you will face instant soul-detonation."
Kaylee rushed to the plaza, using her villainous authority to stop the execution and drag his mangled body back to her hut.
But saving him was a nightmare.
The original owner's sadism had traumatized him so deeply that her gentle touches and clean bandages only triggered his PTSD.
His feral energy spiraled out of control, his golden eyes burning with paranoid terror as he waited for a new, twisted psychological game.
To keep his energy from detonating and killing them both, Kaylee was forced to act like a monster.
"I didn't save you because I care. A dead slave is useless to me."
Only her cruel insults and threats of future torture calmed his broken mind.
Adding to her despair, she stumbled upon the novel's supposedly innocent heroine in the forest, only to hear her system detect a terrifying anomaly.
The fragile heroine had her own cheat system.
Trapped with a paranoid future-tyrant and a rival player manipulating the tribe's strongest warriors, Kaylee shoved a bowl of hot stew at the bleeding slave with a mocking sneer.
To survive this hell, she had to play the villain perfectly.