Yulia Farislan woke up as the villainous princess in a world that felt like a fantasy game she once obsessed over. Her fate was already written—execution, exile, or worse. But when her “punishment” sends her straight into the Dark Temple as a sacrifice to a sleeping Black Dragon, something goes very wrong. The dragon doesn’t kill her. He silences the voices in his head. For the first time in centuries… the world goes quiet. And he decides he’s keeping her. Not as prey. Not as a sacrifice. But as something far more dangerous—his. Now trapped in the domain of Caerus, the god-slaying Black Dragon feared even by the heavens, Yulia discovers the truth: The gods are not watching. The heroes are not coming. And the monster she was sent to die to… might be the only one who ever saw her as real.

“You will lose,” Balian Draven said lightly, as if discussing weather instead of fate.“Humans do not fall in love with monsters on command.” Rothgar did not answer immediately. Because monsters, in his experience, always fell in love first. With power. With fear. With inevitability. And humans? Humans always followed. “Define loss,” Rothgar finally said. Balian smiled. “A hundred women,” he said. “Six months. One proposal each. They must say yes willingly.” A pause. Then, amused: “No possession. No coercion. No tricks from the Abyss.” That last part made something in Rothgar’s expression sharpen—barely. “I do not need tricks,” he said. Balian leaned forward slightly. “Good. Then we have a wager.”

Ghost survived black sites, torture, overseas wars, and six years of becoming something less human and more useful. Founder of BLACK VEIL. Mercenary captain. A ghost story in tactical gear. The kind of man people called when they needed a building cleared, a body retrieved, or a problem buried so deep it stopped having a name. He was silent, brutal, untouchable. Even his own men feared him. As for someone like that— Nyra Quinn, underground mechanic and illegal street racer, had one very professional opinion: “He looks like he buries people in wet cement for stress relief.” Then one day, Ghost watched her steal a motorcycle outside a bank and chase down a robber through downtown LA traffic like she’s starring in her own action movie. He’s in the middle of a sniper assignment when it happened. One second he’s calculating wind direction. The next? Nyra tackled the guy off a bike, draged him into an alley, and started beating him with her helmet... He forgot his target existed for six seconds. For the first time in eight years. ... Later, Nyra worked under the hood of BLACK VEIL’s armored SUV while six armed mercenaries stood around like emotionally constipated furniture. She didn’t look up. > “Does your boss come with a user manual, or is the mask supposed to explain the whole personality disorder?” The garage went silent. Because no one talked about Ghost. Not like that. Not in front of him. Ghost stood beside the vehicle, skull mask turned toward her. After a long pause, he said, > “Nyra.” She rolled out from under the engine with a wrench in her hand. > “What?” His grey eyes lowered to the grease on her cheek. Then to her mouth. Then back to her eyes. > “Come here.” Nyra narrowed her eyes. > “If this is a murder thing, I’m charging extra.” Ghost’s voice dropped lower. Rougher. > “I lost focus on a job today.” Nyra blinked. > “Congratulations on having a human experience?” His men stopped breathing. Ghost didn’t move. > “Because of you.” Nyra stared at him. The wrench slipped slightly in her hand. Across the garage, Kane muttered, > “We’re all completely fucked.” ① Emotionally repressed masked mercenary captain × sunshine chaos mechanic ② He kills people for touching him. She touches his mask and asks if he’s hiding scars or feelings under there. ③ Slow burn / touch-starved antihero / found family mercenaries / black humor / “she makes the monster hesitate.”

For Elena Hawthorne, revenge for her sister’s death was not a choice — it was survival. Every heartbeat, every calculated step, brought her closer to Victor Cassano, the mafia don who thought he could destroy her world. The unchallenged don, was used to obedience, to fear, to women who played their parts—until Elena’s red hair and icy eyes struck at the core of his empire. He had underestimated her. Every calculated move, every subtle provocation, every accidental brush of skin sent sparks of obsession through him. She was the predator in heels, he the prey who couldn’t escape the magnetic pull of her intelligence, beauty, and danger. He tried to dominate. She tried to manipulate. But both were ensnared in a deadly, irresistible dance neither could escape. At a gala where power and money collided, Elena struck. Deals crumbled, alliances shattered, and Victor realized the woman he had dismissed as a mere pawn was the ultimate predator. She turned his empire into her chessboard, twisting rivals and exposing weaknesses with surgical precision. In the world of mafia intrigue, only the cunning survived—and only the irresistible commanded true power.

Claire Reyes only wanted one reckless night. One night to forget: the fellowship she lost, the boyfriend who called her “emotionally exhausting,” and the terrifying feeling that no matter how hard she worked, she would never truly be chosen by anyone. Then she met him. Killian Virel walked into the rooftop bar looking less like a billionaire and more like something dangerous pretending to be civilized. Cold eyes. Expensive suit. The kind of man people instinctively moved aside for without understanding why. Claire should have stayed away. Instead, slightly drunk and emotionally wrecked, she looked at the devastating stranger across the room and asked: “Do you want to have a one-night stand with me?” That should have been the end of it. Except Killian touched her like he was trying not to lose control. Looked at her like she already mattered too much. And held her afterward like letting go had become physically difficult. So Claire ran before sunrise. No note. No number. No goodbye. She thought time would bury the mistake. Unfortunately for her, Killian Virel is not a man capable of forgetting. Now the dangerously obsessive billionaire keeps appearing everywhere: outside her campus, waiting after late-night shifts, watching her like he’s restraining something violent beneath perfect composure. And the worst part? Claire is starting to realize his jealousy feels almost… predatory.

Twelve centuries ago, Lady Aurelia Ravenshire died in the arms of the most feared vampire in history. Count Evander Valmont never recovered. For 1,247 years, he searched for the soul he buried with his own hands, watching kingdoms rise and fall, empires crumble, and centuries disappear into dust. Then he finds her again. Not as a noblewoman. Not as the girl he loved. But as Vivienne Whitmore—a sleep-deprived medical student drowning in exams, student debt, and hospital night shifts. She doesn't remember him. She doesn't remember the castle. She doesn't remember the life they shared. And she certainly doesn't remember dying. But her blood does. The moment a single drop touches the floor, the vampire world descends into chaos. Ancient predators begin hunting her. Old enemies emerge from the shadows. And the immortal man who once lost everything is forced to confront the one truth he fears most: Vivienne may carry Aurelia's soul... But she is not Aurelia. As memories awaken and obsession collides with destiny, Vivienne must decide whether the impossible connection pulling her toward Evander is the promise of a second chance— Or the beginning of another tragedy. Because some loves survive death. The dangerous ones survive eternity.

"She was stolen from her cradle to rot in the gutter. Now, she’s back with a stiletto in her teeth—and a crown waiting on the throne of the dead." Stolen at age five, Scarlett Thorne survived the brutal underworld by learning one golden rule: never show them where it hurts, bleed them dry instead. When she returns to high society to reclaim her stolen birthright, she expects to face the arrogant ex-fiancé who abandoned her and the fake sister who usurped her life. She didn't expect Liam Vance. The Supremo Alfa of the Night’s Shadow Pack—known to the world as the Butcher King—is a cold, terrifying monster who rules through absolute fear. But the moment his ice-blue eyes lock onto Scarlett’s defiant, emerald-green gaze, a volatile, hyper-aware obsession is ignited. He wants to lock her in a golden cage to keep her safe; she wants to burn his entire empire down. Amidst a high-stakes global conspiracy, betrayals from trusted bloodlines, and a slow-burning, breathless war of wills, these two apex predators must decide whether to destroy each other—or rule the world together. Enemies to lovers. Fated mates. High-heat slow burn. A ruthless alpha who forgets how to breathe without her, and a vengeance queen who takes no prisoners.

After drowning in her own world, Nerine wakes inside a fantasy novel as a silver-tailed siren destined to die—and drive three monsters mad with grief. There is Kael, the savage abyssal merman who hunts her across the sea. Morcant, the tentacled witch who locks her inside a house with no escape. And Aurelius, the cursed prince whose gentle smile hides a second, murderous soul. All three remember the woman who once wore Nerine’s face. All three believe she belongs to them. But Nerine refuses to become their dead lover, their captive, or another sacrifice to the story. If these monsters want her, they must learn the difference between possession and devotion—because this time, the doomed siren intends to survive. One siren. Three obsessed monsters. And a tragic ending she refuses to obey.

Dominic Vance is a ruthless billionaire who thought paranoia was armor. When he listened to a poisonous lie and cast his innocent wife, Evangeline, into the freezing rain, he thought he was securing his legacy. Instead, he signed his own death warrant. Four years later, she returns as Eva—a lethal, breathtaking fragrance magnate with vengeance in her amber eyes and a four-year-old mini-Dominic who looks at him like he’s trash. Dominic doesn’t want mercy. He wants to bleed for every tear she shed. But even after he takes a bullet for his son and crawls across broken glass, will she ever let him back into her bed—or just leave him to burn in the ashes of his own empire?

He bought my life. I became his ruin. Killian Sterling is an apex predator in a tailored suit—a ruthless billionaire tyrant who owns the corporate underworld and every cage in Boston. When a fabricated debt portfolio strips away everything I own, he locks me inside his glass fortress, expecting me to break. He thinks I am just another captive token in his game of absolute control. He doesn't know who he invited into his home. I am Aurelia Ross—a bankrupt heiress with a bleeding family legacy, razor-sharp claws, and a soul that refuses to bend. Every demand he barks, I shatter. Every chain he tightens, I sharpen into a weapon. In a world built on lies, corporate bloodshed, and dark secrets, we were never supposed to survive each other. But as shadows close in and a shared enemy threatens to burn our empires to ash, the monster who claimed my freedom realizes a terrifying truth: He didn't trap a bird in a cage. He uncaged a fire that will consume them both.

They called me the villainess for standing in the way of their 'happily ever after.' For three years, I played the martyr, feeding their ego and playing the part of the disposable fiancée. But the script has changed. I didn't wake up to seek redemption; I woke up to finalize my exit strategy. I’m liquidating their influence, sabotaging their empire, and buying back my own life—piece by bloody piece. They think I’m acting out of spite, but they’re too blind to see that I’m executing a hostile takeover. And the Hero? He’s no longer the protagonist. He’s just another liability on my ledger. Watch closely—because while they’re busy begging for my attention, I’m busy burning their world to the ground. The new script is written by me.

Maximilian Draken is an apex predator. He rules the city with a cold fist and a colder heart, treating everyone he meets as an asset to be exploited. When he brings Kaelen Volkov into his inner sanctum, he thinks he’s gaining a quiet, perfect instrument. He doesn't realize he’s invited a surgeon into his life—one who intends to dismantle him piece by piece. As his empire burns, Max finds that losing his throne is the easiest part. The real agony is the addiction. He’s forced to watch his legacy turn to ash, and in the ruins, he discovers a terrifying truth: he doesn't want revenge. He wants the man who destroyed him. He wants to be the one who bows. Max was meant to lead. Now, he only knows how to beg.

My fiancé gaslit me for my tech patents. My adoptive sister poisoned my morning tea. And my family left me to cough up blood in a New York alleyway. But the universe made a mistake. It let me wake up three years earlier. The last time I lived this day, I signed my rights away and smiled like a good girl. This time? I grabbed a pair of shears, hacked off my hair, and burned my five-thousand-dollar wedding gown in the penthouse fireplace. By 9:00 AM, I stole the family’s entire database. By 11:00 AM, I leaked my sister’s sex tape with her manager. By midnight, I walked into a private club and offered myself to Alessandro Del Toro—the terrifying "Executioner of Wall Street" and my family’s ultimate nightmare. My ex-fiancé thinks he can still PUA me. He corners me, raising his hand to strike. But before his fingers can touch my skin, Alessandro’s 6'3 frame blocks the light. With a sickening CRACK, Alessandro snaps my ex's wrist, his amber eyes burning with homicidal rage as he locks him to the concrete floor: "You touched my woman. Now, choose which of your family's companies goes bankrupt by morning." They thought they buried a victim. They didn't know I was a bioweapon—and I just brought the devil home as my bodyguard.

Vanya Volkov is a lethal wraith in platinum—an assassin with nothing left to lose and a target painted on the back of the man she was sent to destroy. Dante Valez is the king of a crumbling empire, a man who knows every sin in the book but has never met someone as dangerous as her. They are two storms colliding in the dark, tethered by a betrayal that threatens to bury them both. As the empire burns around them, the line between vengeance and desire vanishes. When you’re both already dead, is love a salvation—or the final nail in the coffin?

Olivia parecia ter o casamento perfeito em Nova York — um marido bem-sucedido, uma melhor amiga confiável e uma vida luxuosa. Mas tudo era uma mentira cuidadosamente construída. Quando ela descobre a traição entre seu marido e sua melhor amiga, Olivia não reage como eles esperavam. Ela não chora. Ela não implora. Ela observa. Porque Olivia não é apenas uma esposa traída. Ela é a herdeira de um império bilionário que eles nunca imaginaram existir. E agora, cada segredo, cada mentira e cada traição vai se voltar contra eles.

HELENA is the ice queen of Wall Street. When cancer stole her fertility, she didn’t grieve—she treated her survival as a corporate restructuring. She bought the perfect biological vessel. A million-dollar shadow trust, a flawless isolation period, and an iron-clad NDA. It was supposed to be a clean transaction. Until the child is born, and the surrogate refuses to leave. JULIAN is an aesthetic genius trapped in a concrete cage. Years of walking on eggshells around his powerful wife have left him emotionally castrated. Then Luna moves into the guest suite as the live-in nanny, smelling of sweet milk and submissive warmth, filling every sterile corner Helena left empty. Week one, Luna begins wearing Helena’s discontinued vintage Chanel. Week two, the baby violently screams every time Helena tries to hold him. Week three, Helena wakes up at 2:00 AM to find Luna standing in front of the master mirror, wearing her silk slip, practicing her corporate speeches with flawless precision. In this minimalist mansion of glass and shadows, a parasitic takeover has begun. But Luna made one fatal mistake: she forgot that before Helena was a mother, she was Wall Street’s most cold-blooded executioner.

Julian works as a mundane customs officer at Metro City International Airport, where his routine is usually defined by the endless flow of luggage. However, his life takes a terrifying turn when he encounters Fiona, a sophisticated returnee from abroad, carrying a suitcase that seems ordinary—until Julian touches the two unremarkable stones hidden in its lining. An icy chill, like a frozen serpent, surges through him, bringing visions of a water-logged, pale face. Following his gut, Julian triggers the highest security lockdown, unleashing chaos in the terminal. As the investigation deepens, it uncovers a gruesome murder mystery linking Fiona’s missing sister, Snow, and her suspicious husband, Sean. Julian discovers that his touch carries a dark gift: the ability to feel the lingering echoes of the dead. Now, he must race against time to reveal the truth behind the stones before the ghosts of the past consume him too.

Silas, a genius bomb disposal expert, faced an impossible choice when his five-year-old daughter, Sophie, and his wife’s foster brother, Caspian, were held hostage by lethal pressure-sensitive bombs. In a devastating twist, his wife, Seraphina, cold-heartedly demanded he save Caspian first. In the ensuing chaos, Sophie perished in a horrific explosion. But the tragedy was only the beginning. Silas soon realized that Seraphina’s marriage to him was merely a calculated shield to protect her true love—Caspian. Forced to endure public shaming, the loss of his mother, and the systematic dismantling of his life, Silas transforms from a grieving father into a man fueled by cold vengeance. As he strikes a dangerous alliance with the formidable Lydia to expose the web of lies, he prepares to make Seraphina pay the ultimate price for the life she destroyed.

Flora was once the most radiant wild rose in New York, yet she chose to marry Julian, the cold, aloof heir to the Yan empire. For ten years, she sacrificed her vibrant soul to fit into his suffocating, rigid world, hoping for a spark of warmth that never came. When she discovers Julian showering the affection she craved upon an intern who is a carbon copy of her younger, brighter self, she finally realizes the truth: he never wanted a wife; he wanted a porcelain doll. Shattered, Flora files for divorce. But as she peels back the layers of his betrayal, she discovers that his coldness was only the beginning of a cruel game. Now, with a new name and a newfound fire, she isn't just looking for an exit—she is looking for revenge. In a world of high-stakes business and hidden lies, the woman who once lost herself is ready to burn it all down.

In a world of decay, Dante Vane is the only thing that stays white. Serafina Reed spent five years serving as the shield for a base that didn't deserve her. When the breach came, her commander voted to feed her to the infected just to buy himself a chance at survival. Left to die in the freezing Dead Zone, with nothing but a rusted blade and a broken heart, Serafina prepared for the end. She didn't expect the man who arrived to save her. Dante Vane, the Supreme Commander of Aethelgard, is a monster of surgical precision. He incinerates cities with a flick of his wrist and possesses a pathological hatred for the rot of this world. He moves through mountains of gore without staining his pristine white coat—a lethal ghost in a world of filth. When he finds Serafina in the snow, he doesn’t just save her. He claims her. He takes her back to his sterile sanctuary, obsessed with cleansing the grime of the world from her skin. He feeds her, protects her, and burns down anyone who dares to cross his perimeter. He wants to keep her as a prized exhibit in his own private hell. But Dante made a fatal mistake: he thought he was saving a victim. He didn’t realize that Serafina isn’t a trophy—she’s a blade. And she’s finally ready to see if she can cut through his steel heart. “You’re trembling, Tesoro,” he whispers, pressing a cold, gloved hand to her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ve burned the rest of the world just so you could remain pure.” “Then why,” she asks, her voice sharp as the steel she hides under her pillow, “does your touch feel more dangerous than the end of the world?”