Taming My Time-Traveling Lover in My Bed: The Savage King
I bought an antique four-poster bed at Sotheby's, said to be the final resting place of a long-dead European king.
A week later, I woke up to the thick smell of blood, only to find a massive, heavily wounded man in my bed holding a forged steel sword to my throat.
He was dressed in ruined velvet and gold, bleeding out from a massive abdominal gash. When I tried to save him with modern medicine, he called it sorcery and nearly choked me to death. He destroyed my expensive appliances, treating my home like a witch's lair. I thought he was a lunatic cosplayer who broke in, until he tossed me a massive ruby ring as a down payment for my help. I looked it up online. It was the lost coronation ring of King Cain the Cruel, valued at thirty million dollars.
I was terrified of this savage who could snap my neck in an instant. I couldn't comprehend how a tyrant who had been dead for 135 years was breathing in my attic, until he lay back down on the antique mattress and literally vanished into thin air before my eyes.
The bed was a time portal.
The police would lock him in a psych ward and confiscate the priceless artifact, leaving me with nothing but bloodstained sheets and trauma.
"I can give you more wealth than you can imagine."
So, when he reappeared and offered me the lost Fabergé eggs of his fallen empire in exchange for modern shelter, I didn't call 911. I took his hand and became the 21st-century gatekeeper for a time-traveling king.
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Chapter 2
His blue eyes flickered with surprise, but it was quickly swallowed by suspicion.
"You wish to use your sorcery on me?" he rasped, his chin lifted in defiance despite the deathly pallor of his skin.
Katherine kept her hands raised, her pulse thudding in her ears.
"It's not sorcery," she said firmly. "It's science. Medicine."
She had to make him understand. She couldn't fight him; she had to outsmart him.
"I have some medical training," Katherine said. It wasn't entirely a lie. She had taken a wilderness first responder course before a charity expedition to Patagonia three years ago—a course that had covered wound cleaning, basic suturing, and emergency antibiotic use in backcountry situations. Far more than the CPR class most of her peers had breezed through at charity luncheons. "I have a medical kit right here."
She pointed with her chin toward the metal box in the corner.
"Medicine?" he repeated the word like it was a curse.
A fresh wave of pain hit him. He doubled over slightly, a groan escaping his clenched teeth. The sword wavered, dropping a fraction of an inch.
Katherine saw her opening.
"You don't have a choice," she said, her voice hard. "You can either trust me, or you can bleed to death on my sheets. Your sword can't kill blood loss."
He stared at her, his chest heaving. He was assessing her, weighing his options. She met his gaze head-on, refusing to show the terror that was making her stomach churn.
Finally, he gave a slight nod.
"Where is it?" he asked, the command still present in his weak voice.
"Over there." She pointed again. "I need to walk over there to get it."
He gestured with the sword, permitting her to move, but his eyes never left her.
Katherine walked slowly, every step deliberate. She could feel his gaze boring into her back like a laser. She reached the red metal box on the shelf and popped it open.
Inside, everything was neatly organized. Alcohol pads, gauze, medical tape, a suture kit, a bottle of ibuprofen, and an emergency blister pack of broad-spectrum antibiotics—leftovers from the dental surgery she'd had the previous spring. Katherine took a steadying breath. She grabbed the alcohol and a stack of gauze.
She turned back to him. "I need to clean the wound. It's going to hurt."
He let out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough. "This pain is nothing compared to a single lie at a royal banquet."
Katherine paused, thrown off by the bizarre statement. She didn't have time to decipher his delusions.
She approached the bed, the smell of blood overwhelming the antiseptic scent of the alcohol. Her stomach roiled, but she swallowed the bile down.
She reached out to unbutton his ruined coat.
Instantly, his body went rigid. The sword snapped back up, pressing against her collarbone.
"Do not touch me!" he snarled, his eyes wild.
Katherine jumped back, her hands flying up again. "I have to see the wound to fix it! The alcohol will ruin your coat anyway!"
She realized her mistake. In his twisted mind, she was probably violating some sort of noble honor code.
He hesitated, looking down at his blood-soaked shirt. It was a garment of obvious quality, now reduced to rags. A flash of pain crossed his face that had nothing to do with his injury.
With a grimace, he reached up with his free hand. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, shaking from the effort, before he simply ripped the fabric open, exposing his stomach.
The gash was ugly. It was deep, the edges ragged and inflamed. It looked like a blade had sliced him open.
Katherine took a deep breath. She soaked a gauze pad in alcohol.
"This is going to burn." she warned.
She pressed the pad to his skin.
His entire body jerked. The muscles in his abdomen contracted violently. A hiss of air escaped his teeth, but he didn't scream. He didn't even groan. He just sat there, his jaw locked, his eyes squeezed shut, enduring the agony in silence.
Katherine worked quickly, wiping away the blood and dirt. She was amazed by his tolerance. He had a will of iron.
As she cleaned the area near his ribs, her knuckles brushed against his skin. It was burning hot. He was running a terrible fever.
She finished wrapping the wound with gauze, securing it tightly. The bleeding slowed, but the infection was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
He leaned back against the headboard, his chest heaving. The sword slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the mattress. He was too weak to hold it anymore.
He was at her mercy.
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8.3
When Eli is forced to enroll at Blackwood Academy, he thinks it is just another remote boarding school. But on his first night, he realizes the terrifying truth.
This school is a prison.
Trapped in endless, deadly time loops, students are forced to complete cruel, supernatural trials. Ghosts, cursed hallways, hidden rules, and unspeakable creatures hunt them after dark. The only way to stay alive is to solve mysteries, earn credits, and obey the academy's twisted commands.
No one remembers how they arrived.
No one has ever graduated.
No one leaves alive.
Eli must team up with other desperate students to uncover the academy's century-old secret. If they fail, they will be trapped in the nightmare forever.
At Blackwood Academy, survival is the only exam.
7.4
The house was a living inferno, the heat devouring the air in my lungs as I clutched my five-year-old daughter to my chest. Emily was dead weight, her skin already cooling even as the room turned into a furnace of orange and black.
Through the stinging smoke, I saw my husband, Kenney, crawling toward the door with a wet handkerchief pressed to his face. He didn't look back at the crib, and he didn't call my name; he was simply leaving us to burn.
I lunged forward and grabbed his ankle, my nightgown catching fire, but he didn't reach down to save me. He recoiled in horror at the sight of my burning hair and our dead child, kicking me back with a panicked shriek.
"Let go!" he shrieked.
I died as a massive, flaming timber snapped from the ceiling and crushed us both into silence. I couldn't believe that the man I loved would leave his family to die just to save his own skin, but the rage I felt was colder than the death that followed.
But then the burning stopped instantly, replaced by a cold so sharp it made my teeth ache. I gasped, jerking upright in my bed to find the velvet duvet cool under my palms and the nursery quiet, with Emily still breathing softly in her crib.
I had returned to the winter morning two years before the fire, the exact day Kenney finalized the deal to sell me to the King for a promotion. As Kenney stepped into the room with a practiced mask of concern, I realized I was no longer the victim of this story.
"A nightmare, my love?" he asked, reaching out to touch my shoulder.
I flinched away, my eyes burning with a hatred he couldn't yet understand. Tonight was the Winter Masquerade, the night he planned to offer me to the King as a prize, but this time, I was going to turn his social ladder into a gallows.
7.5
Five years ago, Alisson Ford's adoptive family drugged her and offered her to a repulsive old investor to save their failing company.
She escaped the trap, only to accidentally stumble into the bed of Jake Yates, the most terrifying and powerful billionaire in the city.
Months later, while she was painfully giving birth to triplets in a freezing basement, her adoptive sister Bella tracked her down. Bella violently snatched Alisson's firstborn son to pass off as her own ticket into the Yates family. Then, Bella smiled as her men poured gasoline over the mattress and set the room on fire, leaving Alisson and her two remaining newborns to burn alive.
Shielding her fragile babies with her own blistering skin in the roaring inferno, Alisson's despair turned into absolute, blood-soaked hatred. She couldn't fathom how the family she had trusted for years could steal her flesh and blood and condemn her to such a horrific death.
Five years later, Alisson returns to the city as a powerful trauma specialist. She steps right into Jake and Bella's grand engagement banquet, watching coldly as her five-year-old daughter runs straight up to the untouchable billionaire and hugs his leg.
"You are a bad daddy! You abandoned Mommy and us, and now you are going to marry an ugly old witch!"
8.8
Alaia Dudley spent her life playing the devoted partner, completely unaware that her fiancé Austen was sleeping with another woman.
She thought the worst he could do was break her heart, until she found herself pinned to a cold operating table.
Austen held her down with a cruel smirk while a scalpel sliced through her sternum.
They cracked her chest open while she was still fully conscious.
The agonizing pain of her heart being cut out burned into her nerve endings.
She realized then that to him, she was never a lover—just a spare organ, a boring piece of wood to be discarded the second his true love needed it.
She died in excruciating agony, choking on her own blood while the man she loved walked away with her heart.
Until her last breath, she didn't understand why she had to suffer so brutally.
Why did she waste her life begging for a monster's attention? Why did they get a happy ending while she was carved up like an animal?
But then, ice-cold water flooded her lungs, and Alaia violently broke the surface of her bathwater.
Her trembling fingers touched her smooth, flawless chest. No scars. Her heart was still beating.
The date on her phone glared back at her: it was exactly five years ago.
Tonight was the exact night Austen first took his mistress to a hotel room.
This time, she wouldn't just expose them. She would use Wall Street's most terrifying tyrant as her personal weapon to strip them of everything they had.
9.4
I was lying in a sterile hospital room, dying of cancer, with only a fake infertility report to keep me company.
Right before my heart monitor flatlined, a stranger walked in and handed me a medical file.
He told me that my fiancé, Garret, had zero sperm viability. The baby my adoptive sister, Beryl, was carrying wasn't his.
When Beryl got pregnant years ago, my adoptive parents forced me to break my engagement and take the blame for being barren.
I was discarded by Garret, mocked by Beryl's triumphant smiles, and kicked out of the house.
I was left to rot alone in a hospital bed while they lived the perfect life stolen from me.
My entire existence had been a cage built on a single, disgusting lie.
The anger burned away my despair. Why was I the only one who didn't know?
Why did I let them use me as a maid and a shield for their filthy secrets?
As the darkness swallowed me, I prayed for just one more chance.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my adoptive mother yelling my name.
The calendar on the wall read March 15, 2019—the exact day they forced me to give up Garret.
This time, I didn't cry or beg.
"You want Beryl to have Garret? Fine," I told my shocked adoptive parents. "But I want a cash buyout, and we are legally severing this adoption."
Then, I set my sights on Douglass Ward—the stranger from the hospital room.
7.1
The powerful white wolf promised to return but no one could predict how subtle and humble her return would be. They expect a great appearance and ignore a quiet and unpredictable arrival and it's a legendary fact that whoever mates with her, becomes the most powerful Lycan to ever exist. Many Alphas and Lycans await the return of the Legendary white wolf and when Alpha Kasper of the Cliffwood pack discovered that his destined mate from the moon goddess for him was the wolfless Omega Amelia, daughter of the Pack's Beta, he tortured her and rejected her. And just when he thought she wouldn't survive his rejection, a twist followed, he realised that his rejected mate was the long awaited White wolf, his world came crashing and a curse was left behind....