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.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
The night air was freezing. It cut right through the thin fabric of Clora's silk nightgown, raising goosebumps on her arms. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she stood on the damp grass of the garden.
It wasn't an act. She was genuinely cold. But the shivering served a dual purpose. It made her look vulnerable, fragile. Like a lost little girl waiting for a savior.
She glanced up at the second floor of the manor. The study window was a slab of black against the lit hallway. He was up there. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his gaze like a physical weight on the back of her neck. Essex never missed a detail, especially when it came to his possessions.
Good. Let him watch.
She took a step further into the shadows of the rose bushes. This was the exact spot. Seven years ago, she had stood here, her heart pounding with hope, waiting for Preston to rescue her. She had thought he was her knight in shining armor.
Now, the memory just made her sick.
A rustling sound came from the dense hedge to her left. A figure emerged, brushing leaves off his expensive jacket.
Preston Vaughn. He looked exactly as she remembered. Perfectly styled dark hair, a jawline that belonged on a magazine cover, and eyes that always seemed to be calculating the value of whatever they landed on.
"Clora!" He hurried over, his face a mask of desperate concern. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and sweaty. "Thank god you're okay. I got your message. We have to move fast. Come with me right now, I can get you out of here."
Clora looked at his hand on her wrist. His touch made her skin crawl. She didn't pull away, though. Not yet. She needed to play this just right.
She looked up at the dark window again, just for a second. The air around them felt heavy, charged with a violent energy that was pressing down on them from above. Essex's fury was a living thing, building in the dark.
Preston misread her hesitation. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her in a suffocating hug. He buried his face in her neck, his voice dropping to a smooth, seductive murmur.
"Don't be scared, Clora. I'm here now. I won't let that tyrant touch you ever again. Just come with me. We'll go back to the city, we'll get married tomorrow. I'll protect you."
Clora stared over his shoulder at the dark hedges. Married. Right. Preston didn't want her. He wanted the Parrish family shares that came with her. He wanted the ego boost of stealing Essex Langley's property. He was a scavenger, picking at the scraps of the powerful.
She felt a wave of disgust so strong it almost choked her. This was the man she had ruined her life for. This pathetic, greedy coward.
She could feel Essex's patience snapping. The tension in the air was like a pulled rubber band, ready to snap back and take someone's head off.
It was time.
Preston leaned in, trying to kiss her. "Just trust me, Clora. We belong together-"
Clora ripped her arm out of his grip. She shoved him back hard, the force of her rejection surprising them both.
Preston stumbled, nearly tripping over a root. He caught his balance and stared at her, his perfect face twisting in confusion. "Clora? What are you doing?"
Clora took a step back, putting a solid five feet of cold night air between them. She looked at him, really looked at him, and let all the contempt she felt show on her face.
Preston's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with you? I'm trying to save you!"
Clora didn't answer him. Instead, she tilted her chin up and looked directly at the dark study window.
"Have you seen enough?" she called out. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the quiet garden like a knife.
Preston froze. The color drained from his face. He slowly turned his head to follow her gaze, staring up at the black window.
For a second, nothing happened. Just the chirping of crickets and the pounding of Preston's visible panic.
Then, a tiny orange glow flared in the darkness. The cherry of a cigar. It illuminated a sliver of a harsh jawline and a pair of eyes that glowed with predatory intent.
Essex Langley stepped forward, visible in the faint moonlight. He stood at the window like a dark god looking down on his domain, his expression unreadable, but the threat in his posture unmistakable.
Preston made a choking sound. He hadn't actually believed Essex would be there. He thought Mila's plan was foolproof. He took a step back, his legs visibly shaking.
Clora watched Preston's terror with a sense of grim satisfaction. The mouse had just realized the cat was in the room.
She crossed her arms over her chest, a cold smile playing on her lips. The stage was set. The spotlight was on. Now it was time to burn the house down.
You may also like
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.