Cassandra Davy

Armand was appointed king, his small hellish kingdom was nothing compared to his nemesis. But he was not claiming for more, he was done after his lover's demise as King Ranulf accidentally kill her and made both of them cast to hell. He's a fallen angel who wanted nothing but to spend the rest of his eternal life grieving in his way. That was until the day he met Rain, the human werewolf he thought can heal his wound. But he was rejected, he thought Rain liked him until he chose King Ranulf. The day he was going to kidnap Rain was the day he got badly wounded. And Rain once again rejected him and told his lover not to hurt him. And that's how for days he ended up in the care of a very chatty Succubus named Basilea. ***** No one knows how valuable Basilea was, not even the last king she served her life for. Basilea was the last princess of the demon succubus, both parents were killed in the great war less than a hundred years ago. Her kingdom falls and she had no desire to fill her royal throne. She was living the harem life with King Ranulf, her life was easy under his protection. Basilea was brought by King Eustace, the ruler before King Arkael and King Ranulf. She was taken in just before her she reach adulthood, no one knew her, and no one gets close enough to peel layers of her deep darkest secret until Armand. The one being she couldn't resist, the one male who can fulfill her desire. She was a demon after all, and she knows that demons don't get her happy ever after. Or do they? ***** Warning! R-Rated for 18+ due to strong, explicit language and sexual content*

"You are beautiful Blair, I can't keep my desire down from you. We shouldn't be doing this..." "Ian... please... I want this, I've never..." she didn't get to finish her sentence when Ian started kissing her. ***** She was running away from her crime She was homeless living on her own She was in trouble hiding from her past He was a cop and was on top of his game He was the golden boy who follows the rules He was strict and meticulously protecting his past What would happen when fate (in this case me and my reader who came up with the crazy idea...yeah you know who...) decide to interfere and put the two together? ****** Warning ⚠️ R-Rated for 18+ due to strong explicit language and sexual content

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

The sensation of falling wasn't like flying; it was heavy, violent, and smelled of burning flesh. Above us, on the crumbling balcony of the Sears manor, Duke Cato Sears turned his back, shielding his cousin Bianca from the smoke as he walked away, leaving my sister Blossom and me to drop into the abyss. As the darkness slammed shut like an iron door, I realized my entire life had been a cruel script written by the people I called family. In my first life, I was the sacrificial lamb of the Dawson manor, sold to a man who eventually watched me die without blinking. My sister Blossom had pushed me into Cato's arms to avoid his rumors, only to laugh when the fire finally consumed us both. My father had measured my value like a piece of livestock, and my step-grandmother didn't even acknowledge my existence while I was being led to the slaughter. I died in that fire, feeling the heat scorch my skin and the weight of a hatred so potent it tasted like bile. I spent twenty years being the weak, manipulated shadow of a girl, only to end up as nothing more than a phantom scorch mark on a "hero's" estate. I couldn't understand why my own blood treated my life like a game they could discard. The injustice of it all burned hotter than the flames that took my last breath. Then, I sat up, sucking in air that tasted of lavender and air conditioning, not smoke. I was back in my bedroom, three days before the engagement ball that ruined my life. Blossom stood at the door, her "sweet" mask slipping as she tried to manipulate me into the Duke's path again. She thought she was the only one who had come back, but she didn't realize that this time, I was going to let her have exactly what she wanted: the Duke, the bankruptcy, and the living hell that awaited her in that house.

I stood in the Royal Hall, clutching a glass of warm champagne while watching Senator Levine laugh. To the crowd, he was a pillar of the community; to me, he was the parasite who had already destroyed my life once. In my past life, this gala was the night the monarchy began to bleed. Levine successfully planted his cameras, the Vance empire funded a coup, and the kingdom I loved was sold off to the highest bidder. I lived through the consequences of my silence. I watched my sister, Seraphina, die in childbirth because the medical supplies were intercepted by traitors. I watched the man I loved, Duke Elliot, stripped of his titles and branded a criminal. I spent my final days in a damp, freezing cell, listening to the executioner sharpen his blade while the people cheered for our demise. The injustice burned in my throat like lye. I died wondering how I could have been so naive, how I could have let these monsters walk among us while I played the part of a perfect, quiet wife. Why did the gods let the wicked prosper while my family’s blood watered the palace gardens? What would I have given for just one chance to strike first? Then, the world shifted. I opened my eyes to find myself back at the gala, the scent of sandalwood and rain surrounding me as Elliot rested a possessive hand on my back. I wasn't just a Duchess anymore; I was a ghost from a future that would never happen, and I was ready to erase every name on my list.

Chloe Miller and Blake Harrison were husband and wife, a title that masked three years of mutual hatred and separate beds. Then, a gang abducted and brutally murdered Chloe. But instead of peace, she woke to the Grim Reaper' s voice: "Ms. Miller, you have desires you have not resolved. You cannot be reborn yet." She was granted ten days to return to life and fix her problems, or risk eternal damnation. Chloe returned to find Blake celebrating her "death" with her adoptive sister, Amelia Miller, the woman Blake truly loved. Blake, believing her to be a manipulative ghost, grabbed her throat. "You have the nerve to come back!" he snarled. He thought she faked her kidnapping, mocking her with twisted accusations alongside Amelia and her parents. Chloe, overwhelmed, saw the prayer beads she' d gotten for Blake during his accident, a symbol of her wasted devotion. Her past devotion felt like a torment now, a chain she needed to break. She pulled the beads from his wrist, scattering them, severing their hold. "I' m tired, Blake," she said, her voice clear and firm. "Let' s get a divorce." His eyes widened in shock. He refused. He' d always refused. But this time, Chloe wasn' t fighting for him. She was fighting for herself. She was finally ready to rewrite her own story, leaving behind the shattered pieces of her past.

A sharp pain shot through my head, pulling me from a deep darkness. I opened my eyes to my luxury penthouse, but I shouldn't have been there. I remembered dying. The memory was cold and sharp: my protégé, Dustin, sold me out, and my husband, Graves, watched our company crumble, leading to my fatal heart attack. Then, Graves appeared, his charming, empty smile unchanged. But he wasn't alone. A young woman, Alex Salazar, stood behind him, clutching her cheap handbag. Graves introduced her as an intern, saying she had nowhere to stay and would be living with us. My eyes fell to her neck, where a dark hickey was partially hidden. The date on the nightstand confirmed it: I had traveled back in time to the exact day Graves brought Alex home in my previous life, the beginning of my long, painful nightmare. Last time, I had screamed and thrown things, starting my humiliation. A strange calm washed over me. I had been given a second chance, not to win him back, but to escape. "Of course," I said, my voice even, "The poor thing. We should take care of her." Graves looked surprised, then relieved. He thought he had won. "In fact," I continued, pulling out divorce papers, "I'll make sure she's comfortable. You just have one small thing to do for me." I wanted the Malibu property. "Give me that, and I'll walk away quietly. You can have your new life. You can take care of this... orphan."

The numb cold started in my fingertips, creeping inward. I watched Chloe, my wife, her face a mask of impatient fury in the dim tent light. Outside, a blizzard howled, the soundtrack to my dying. My miraculous blood, the blood that could heal, drained from my arm, a crimson offering for a dead man. "More," Chloe demanded, her voice sharp. "It' s not enough. You have to bring him back." Her childhood sweetheart, Jake Miller, lay frozen nearby, a corpse. "Chloe, it doesn' t work like this," I rasped, my vision blurring. "I can heal injuries. I can' t raise the dead." "Liar!" she shrieked, her grief a twisted venom. "You can heal anything! You won' t save him because you' re jealous! It' s your fault he went up that mountain! If you hadn' t forced me to marry you, he' d still be alive!" The accusation was a sick joke. I had healed her to repay a debt, a lie used to trap me. I wasn' t a god, just a medical prodigy. As my lifeblood pooled, the world faded to black, her hateful face my last sight. Then, bright, sterile light. I gasped, eyes flying open in a pristine hospital room. My hands were whole, warm. Mrs. Davis, Chloe' s mother, stood by the window, worried but hopeful. This was the day it all began, the day they begged me to heal their daughter. I remembered my profound sense of duty, repaying a girl I believed saved me. That single selfless act led to a year of loveless marriage, resentment, and my own murder. "Dr. Hayes," Mrs. Davis said, trembling. "We' ve heard about your… gift. They say you can perform miracles." She stepped forward, hands clasped. "My daughter, Chloe… she' ll never walk again. But we believe… you can save her. Please, we' ll give you anything." But my gaze was cold. I saw the contempt, the venom of my past in her desperate eyes. I had been a fool. A naive, sacrificial lamb. Not again.

The screams of the "Proving" ceremony were the first thing I heard when I woke up. My eyes shot open, and the scent of pine, sweat, and something metallic filled my lungs. I was back in this godforsaken survivalist compound, mysteriously transported from my office job. A hand grabbed my arm, and it was Gabrielle Chadwick, or Gabby, her terrified eyes pleading. "Molly, help me! Please! They're going to hurt me!" This was the ritual where young men would strike unmarried women with leather belts, and the one enduring the most blows was deemed "most desired." In my past life, I shielded Gabby, taking every blow for her, believing I was protecting a friend. My sacrifice made me the "most honored," granting me first choice of a partner, and I chose Caleb Scott, the compound leader' s son. But my life with Caleb was a private hell of control and brutality, while Gabby, seething with resentment for what she thought was her rightful place, pretended to be my friend. She eventually got her revenge, pushing me off a cliff during a foraging trip. Now, reborn at the start of that same horrifying ceremony, Gabby was playing the same part, her hand clamping my arm, her voice a desperate plea for me to be her shield again. I looked at her, at the calculated fear in her eyes, remembering the sharp, final impact of falling. Not this time.

The last thing I remembered was freezing to death in my garage, alone. My fiancée, Jenny, had taken all our savings, not for us, but for her lover Mark Todd's son, Leo. She didn't even seem sad when she found me, just annoyed my death inconveniently interrupted Leo's birthday plans. I gasped, my eyes flying open to a warm morning sun in my own bed. The date on my phone was a full year before my demise. A second chance. My old auto shop teacher called, offering a full scholarship to an automotive engineering program in California. In my first life, I turned him down, sacrificing my dreams to stay with Jenny in our small Ohio town. But this time, a cold, hard resolve filled me. "I'll take it," I said, my voice firm and clear, my heart an ice block. Just then, Jenny walked in, laughing with Mark and Leo, acting like they owned my house. Leo, the spoiled kid, demanded I make him mac and cheese, and Jenny instantly defended him, whispering, "He's just a kid! Don't be so petty." I watched her doting on them, making them dinner with practiced ease, completely ignoring me and my own cold meal. Why did I let her walk all over me, drain my bank account, and destroy my future? This time, I felt nothing but a powerful decision. I was already gone. They just didn't know it yet.

The stale smell of burnt coffee and dread filled the air. I knew this night. The final, all-night document review for a billion-dollar merger. Last time, my husband, Mark, the senior partner, abandoned his post for his intern mistress, Chloe, after she ruined critical documents. Their negligence cost us the deal and ruined Mr. Thompson, our biggest client. They pinned it all on me. I was disbarred, sued into oblivion, and died poor and alone, while Mark and Chloe thrived, protected by her powerful family. Now, I was back. Reborn on the worst night of my life, with only four hours to save everything. But the past was insistent. Chloe, with her shrill apologies, again spilled coffee-this time directly onto the irreplaceable signature page. Mark, predictably, jumped to defend her, leaving the crucial filing to comfort his "distressed" mistress. "Chloe needs me!" he hissed, as his phone blared with her manipulative threats: "If you don't come to me this second, I'm going to the clinic! I'll get rid of it!" He shoved me aside, spitting, "The firm has malpractice insurance for a reason." And just like last time, he was gone, leaving chaos in his wake. How could a man jeopardize a billion-dollar deal, his reputation, and his client' s legacy for a flighty intern? How could such selfish, incompetent people rise to power while I was destroyed? This time, I wouldn't just watch. I wouldn't break. With pain in my heart and hip, I walked to the head of the abandoned table. The game had changed. This time, I' d take the lead. And this time, I wouldn' t just survive-I' d make sure they burned for it.

My own father, David, drowned me in the cold Caribbean, tying the anchor chain to my ankles himself, his voice devoid of emotion as he declared it was "for Chloe," my adopted sister, blaming me for her demise. But instead of death, I gasped awake, not underwater, but on our luxury yacht, the *Serenity*, hours before the terrifying pirate attack I'd already endured, realizing I was trapped reliving my darkest nightmare. My frantic warnings dismissed, my father abandoned us *again*, taking all able-bodied security and crew for a dolphin chase with Chloe, only to explicitly tell my terrified mother on the phone that I was "shark bait *again*," a chilling confirmation that he remembered my original death and was willing to let it happen once more. The injustice was soul-crushing: while my brother, Mike, bravely sacrificed his arm fighting the invading pirates, even our closest ally, Uncle Ben, initially sided with David and Chloe, believing their manipulative lies about my supposed "jealous drama." However, the grotesque discovery of Mike's severed limb in the open ocean finally shattered Uncle Ben's blind faith, transforming him into an unlikely ally and igniting within me an unyielding resolve to uncover the shocking truth: my "sweet" adopted sister, Chloe, was the actual orchestrator of every horrific betrayal, and I would make sure she paid for every single one of our recurring nightmares.