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 4
Preston's head snapped back and forth between Clora and the dark figure upstairs. His chest heaved, and his voice cracked as he pointed a shaking finger at her.
"You... you set me up?" he sputtered. "You told Mila you wanted to see me! You wanted me to get caught!"
Clora ignored him. She kept her eyes locked on the window above, her smile widening just a fraction. She could practically hear the gears turning in Essex's head. Was this a trap for Preston? A declaration of war? Or something else entirely?
She turned back to Preston, dropping the smile. She looked at him the way one might look at a bug crawling across a dinner plate.
"Preston Vaughn," she said, her voice clear and sharp in the quiet night. "Did you really think I was still that stupid little girl who would fall for your crap?"
Preston flushed red, a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I came here to help you! You're acting like a crazy person!"
"Help me?" Clora let out a short, bitter laugh. "Help me with what, Preston? With your family's bankrupt shipping business? Or are you trying to salvage the bruised ego you got when Essex threw you out of the engagement party?"
Every word hit its mark. Preston's jaw clenched, and he took a step toward her, his hands balling into fists. "You ungrateful bitch. I'm offering you a way out of hell, and you're throwing it back in my face?"
Upstairs, Essex shifted his weight. The tiny movement seemed to release a wave of pressure into the garden. The air grew heavier, thick with the promise of violence. But he didn't move to intervene. He just watched.
Clora took a step toward Preston, closing the distance between them. She didn't flinch. She looked him dead in the eye, her gaze icy.
"Hell?" she scoffed. "At least the devil is honest about what he is. Essex doesn't hide what he wants. His power, his wealth, his control-it's all right there in the open."
She reached out and poked Preston hard in the chest, right over his heart. "But you? You're a thief hiding behind a white knight costume. You're broke, Preston. Your family is drowning in debt, and you thought you could parade me around like a trophy to get the Langley name off your back."
Preston looked like he had been slapped. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Clora dropped her hand, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. She slowly shifted her gaze from Preston's face back up to the second-floor window, making sure Essex heard every word.
"Besides," she said, her tone shifting, becoming almost... intimate. "You couldn't even tie Essex Langley's shoes, let alone compare to him."
The words hung in the air. Preston stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock.
Clora took a breath and let the lie flow smoothly from her lips. "His taste, his power, this entire estate... even the way he punishes me, it's more real than your pathetic little 'love' ever was. At least when he hurts me, I know I'm alive. At least he's a man worth fighting."
She was laying it on thick, practically serving it on a silver platter. It was outrageous. It was insane. It was exactly what a twisted mind like Essex's would want to hear.
Upstairs, Essex's shadow shifted again. The cigar glow paused halfway to his mouth. He was listening. He was interested.
Preston, on the other hand, looked like he was going to be sick. "You're insane," he whispered. "You're defending him? He's a monster!"
Clora dropped the act. Her face went blank, her eyes turning to ice. She pointed toward the garden gate.
"Get out, Vaughn," she commanded. "Walk away while you still have legs. Because if I see your face here again, I won't stop him from breaking them."
She threw the threat out like a bone to a dog, giving Essex the power. It was his right to punish the intruder. She was just the messenger.
Preston didn't need to be told twice. The fight completely drained out of him. He shot Clora a look of pure venom, then turned and scrambled through the bushes, his expensive shoes slipping in the mud as he ran for his life.
The garden was quiet again. The crickets slowly started back up.
Clora stood alone in the moonlight. She looked up at the study window. Essex was still there, a dark silhouette against the glass.
Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst. She had just gambled her life on a monologue. If he thought she was mocking him, if he thought this was a trick, she was dead.
The shadow at the window moved. Essex turned and disappeared into the room.
Clora's breath caught. The back doors of the manor opened with a heavy click. Heavy footsteps echoed on the stone patio.
Essex Langley stepped out into the garden. The cold night air seemed to wrap around him, making him look even larger, more imposing. His face was in shadow, but his eyes caught the moonlight, burning with an intensity that made Clora's knees weak.
He walked toward her, stopping just a few feet away. The scent of his cigar smoke mixed with the night chill.
Clora forced herself to stand tall. She didn't step back. She didn't cower. She met his gaze head-on, even though every nerve in her body was screaming at her to run.
The real test was just beginning.
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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.