Good Zombie Novels Novels & Stories

Caution ❌❌❌🔞 Dark Erotic Romance, Billionaire, +18 Mature, contains mature content, explicit sexual scenes, emotional trauma, manipulation, dominance, and dark themes, obsession, submission, power imbalance, forbidden desire, sexual awakening, class conflict, psychological dominance Sold to a brothel on her Nineteenth birthday, she was nothing more than a commodity—until he walked in. A ruthless billionaire, cold as ice and as dangerous as the dark corners of his mansion. He didn’t want her for just sex. He wanted control, obedience, and to claim her body as his. But he didn’t expect her to burn with desire, to challenge him, to crave the power he wielded over her. Bound by his rules, she becomes his maid, his plaything, but also his obsession. As passion ignites between them, it’s a dangerous dance of dominance, submission, and forbidden pleasure. Their world is a game of control and surrender, but when desire blurs the lines, both their dark pasts threaten to tear them apart. With rivals, jealousies, and a love neither of them was ready for, will she remain his submissive forever—or break free from his chains? In this world of lust and power, no one can stay in control forever. Especially when she starts to take the reins in the most erotic, dangerous ways.

My younger sister was crazy about novels and always envied the way ordinary heroines pick up penniless heroes and climb the social ladder. So, she started picking up men wherever she could. Until one day, a man with a face covered in sores collapsed at our doorstep. I instantly recognized the signs of syphilis and warned my sister repeatedly, and only then did she give up the idea. However, fate had other plans: my sister's best friend "picked him up" instead and married into a wealthy family. My sister held a grudge. On my birthday, she locked me in my room and set it on fire. No matter how desperately I begged, she refused to open the door. Outside, she sneered: "I know you're just scared I'll live better than you, so you want to drag me down into misery with you. People like you don't even deserve to be a sister!" I burned alive, my body reduced to nothing but ashes. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my sister insisted on "picking up that man." This time, I quietly stepped back, letting her have her way—of course, I chose to let her succeed.

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

Grandpa died, and we immediately went for each other's throats over the inheritance. Then a blizzard hit, trapping us all in the family estate. An app appeared on our phones: [THE LAST ZOMBIE: FINAL RECKONING]. We had to pick a hiding spot. The last one standing—the last human standing—would inherit everything. I chose the dark, silent recording studio in the basement. Away from them all. When it was time to pick special powers, my family chose powerful weapons or pocket dimensions full of supplies. I chose Bio-Stasis. It slowed my cells to a crawl, and my body along with them. My stepbrother's fiancée, Chloe, called me an idiot. "Hiding from your family and picking a useless power? You're on a suicide mission." They threw a zombie-slaying party upstairs, already celebrating an inheritance they hadn't even won. Until, one by one, they turned. And started tearing each other apart. What they didn't know... was that I'd rigged the game from the start. The only way to win was to stay completely silent.

I married Mason Fleming, who comes from a prestigious family with a long line of lawyers, at 19. For over 20 years, I devoted myself fully to our home by raising our child, keeping the household together, and supporting his career. Now I'm 40, and he cheats on me. Friends and relatives try to advise me. "Your husband is handsome and successful. He even lets you manage the money he earns. Compared to most men, he's considered one of the good ones." In other words, they want me to turn a blind eye and continue playing the role of a "good wife" to maintain appearances. But I can't keep up with the act anymore.

I'm a dance major who's preparing for her exams. Everyone thinks I'm a good girl, but there's one thing they don't know about me—I've fantasized about being violated more than once…

Leo Parker, my fiance, shoved me out the door with his own hands. He used me as bait to buy time for himself and my best friend, Jessica Thorne, to escape. I'd never forget him shutting the door. I'd never forget his last words through the narrow crack. "Thank you for your sacrifice, Chloe." When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day before the zombie outbreak. Leo is gently urging me to hurry up and transfer 150 thousand dollars for the remodeling. It's the money we set aside for the home we plan to live in after we get married. In my past life, he set a trap and drained every cent of my savings. This time, I smile and agree. The only difference is that the 150 thousand dollars is going to build my doomsday bunker. And I'm also planning something special for them. After all, since I get a second chance at life, I should properly thank them for the "kindness" they showed me last time when they shoved me out to get torn apart by zombies.

My dad was a zombie. My mom? Even scarier. She was an uber-powerful mutant. At the crack of dawn, she was already yelling, "Derick Olson! Don't make me come over there! What kind of zombie are you? Glued to your headphones all day—are those audiobooks really that captivating?" I rolled over in bed and promptly fell right off. Scrambling to my feet, I started tidying up my room in a flash, terrified she might actually make good on her threat. "Look at Mr. Hoffman next door," she hollered. "He roams the streets day and night, probably gobbled up more brains than you've read books!"

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

When I visit my girlfriend's house during the Christmas holidays, her cousin, Antonio Esposito, humiliates me in front of everyone because of a scar on the back of my hand. "This scar looks like a remnant of the crossfire with the mafia! Bianca, why did you think that bringing an ex-convict home was a good idea?" The entire Romano family stares at me in a mixture of horror and shock. My girlfriend, Bianco Romano, even shakes my hand off while staring at me in disgust. Not only does Antonio flip the table, but he also calls over a few hooligans in an attempt to take me to the local police station. "We must teach scumbags like him a lesson!" he declares. After that, Antonio and the hooligans strip off my jacket and strap me to the tree in the courtyard. They then attempt to force me to admit that I'm working for the mafia. I can only gnash my teeth together stubbornly, refusing to yield no matter what. What they don't know is that the scar is a medal from my time in a peacekeeping war as a soldier!