Plaything Comic Novels & Stories

In the depths of her despair, her tear-stained eyes desperately tried to focus on the heartless figure before her. "I am not a mere plaything to be possessed," she whispered through trembling lips. "I am a person, with hopes and dreams that extend far beyond the confines of this marriage. I am... am a person with emotions." But he remained unmoved, his gaze cold and unsympathetic. "You are just a contract wife, bound to serve and fulfill my desires," he retorted, devoid of warmth or understanding. "Your aspirations are irrelevant. Your emotions, as long as they don't disrupt this façade of a marriage, are inconsequential..." His callousness only deepened her despair, and he reveled in it, wiping away her tears with cruel satisfaction. "Don't cry, my dear," he sneered. "You have years ahead to drown in regret and endure your punishments. You write about fairytales, don't you? Welcome to your Hell in Paradise, Wife." … ‘How and where had it all started?’ You might ask, dear distinguished reader. Well, it all began with money, as it so often does in Los Angeles, where a sinister game of romance and deceit unfolded when Sirena, a struggling romance author agreed to walk down the aisle with the egoistic heir of the prestigious Crown Dynasty. Three years. That was all or so she thought until an unexpected twist left her torn between the vague feelings she had for the cruel husband and the intense fairytale pang she felt with the mysterious ‘masked man’. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, amidst lavish parties and extravagant soirées, Sirena finds herself entangled in a treacherous web of love and loyalty, where hidden agendas, forbidden desires, and deceptions threaten to take away her newfound love. Newfound love with whom? Even this Author is itching to find out.

The Mad Donna He Never Really Married For three years, I was Donna of the rising Valenti family. One day, Enzo was holding a meeting at a private cigar club. I worried about his stomach issues, so I went to bring him his usual antacids. Standing outside the private room, I heard his men laughing. “Don Enzo, are you really going to keep Clara hidden away at the Silver Lake villa forever?” “That mad Moretti heiress in the main house is still parading around as Donna of the Valenti family.” Enzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and scoffed. “If she hadn’t taken a bullet to the head for me and gone insane, and if I hadn’t desperately needed her family’s capital, I never would have married a woman with no blood ties to the life.” “But Clara is my legal wife. The family trust, the marriage certificate at City Hall, it’s all in her name.” “Stella’s just a plaything I keep at the main house. Once Clara gives birth to an heir, I’ll bring her home for good.” My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the small box of medicine, the cardboard crumpling in my hand. He had exchanged blood oaths and rings with me in the church, yet it was Clara who had signed the papers at City Hall. He played me for a fool, all to keep Clara’s reputation clean. Clutching the box, I turned and melted back into the shadows. He had no idea my sanity had returned three days ago. He would never guess I had already sent an encrypted message to my brother, who runs a business empire from our home in Solaria, far across the sea. I was done with this goddamn Valenti title.

After my sister died, I ran to the human world to chase my own dreams. I was determined to live out my days as a lone wolf. Then I met him: Alpha Blake, in the city on pack business. He was gentle and strong. He hated territory wars, just like me. All he wanted was a peaceful life for his pack. We weren't fated mates, but the pull between us was undeniable. He promised me I would be his one and only Luna. Then came the Moon Festival. He invited me to his pack. He wanted to perform the bonding ceremony, he said. A declaration of our love to the entire werewolf world. I thought I had finally found my salvation, the one who could heal my broken heart. I was so happy to go home with him. I never expected him to drug me that night with a cup of poisoned wine. Only then did I learn the truth. He was selling me to the Alpha King, Roric, to pay off his pack's debt. He'd approached me in the first place because I looked just like Roric's dead mate. He tied me up and delivered me to Roric’s estate, a sick smile twisting his face. "Consider it an honor. One night as the Alpha King's plaything, and our pack's debt is cleared. Worth three years of pretending, wasn't it?" The silver poison paralyzed me, but I couldn't help but laugh. He had no idea. Roric's dead mate? That was my sister. And Roric? He was the man who grew up with me, practically my own brother. He'd personally delivered the lost princess of the Silver Peak Pack right to her own doorstep.

I got a car straight from the Lycan Chairman himself—a ride costs more than tens of millions and can turn every traffic light green. I got it because the Lycan Chairman once fell on the battlefield, his heart torn open. And me? I'm the one bound to him by a blood-sealed contract, the only secret healer who could save his life. To win me golden hour for surgeries, I was awarded with such an honored ride. I treated it like sacred ground, kept it hidden in my mate Yorick's underground garage, polished and guarded, ready for the day the Lycan Chairman might need me again. That day came. The summons burned in my hand, urgent and sharp. I rushed to the garage, ready to drive, and the second I approached the garage, a strange woman slid into the back seat. "Take me to the Nighty Bar," she ordered, flipping her hair. "Yorick had waited for me minutes. If he's mad at me being late, I'll make you regret it." My hands froze on the wheel. "This is my car," I told her, calm but firm. "I have urgent business. You need to get out. Now." She sneered. "What a joke. A chauffeur pretending to be the owner? You must have a death wish." Her soldiers glanced at me sideways, voice dripping with disdain. "Everyone in the pack knows that this car is Alpha's exclusive for picking up Selene! You're just a little healer. Do yourself a favor and listen to her." Their words cut sharper than any blade. The car that carried the highest secret of the werewolf race, the car tied to the Chairman's very heartbeat, in their mouths, it was nothing more than a toy. A plaything my mate used to please another she-wolf. They wanted me to bow. To surrender. To sit there, silent, while they spat on me. But what they didn't know, the Lycan Chairman's soldiers were already on their way.

The train to Centraford was about to depart. That was the ride we'd spent our entire life savings—30 thousand bucks—to get a ticket for. I was gripping my mate, Byron Reynolds's, hand tightly, trying to pull him onto the last train to Centraford. This was the chance I'd waited three long years for. Once we entered Centraford, we could rise from being low-tier civilian werewolves to official Silvren Talons workers—registered, salaried, and numbered. If we missed this train, we'd be stuck forever in Sidersville, a chaotic melting pot, never able to enter the heart of the werewolf city-state. But Byron held us back, refusing to leave without Lisa Peters, who was still down by the river, washing her face. In the very last second before the train took off, I had our friends forcibly drag Byron aboard. We made it to Centraford and became Silvren Talons workers. But Lisa missed her chance. She was left behind in Sidersville and became a rogue, a plaything passed around by countless men. A few years later, she was tortured to death. Byron looked fine on the surface. But on the day of our marking ceremony, he drove a silver blade into my stomach, killing the pup growing inside me, and tore out my heart. His eyes burned red as he growled through clenched teeth, "This is all your fault. You're the reason Lisa never made it to Centraford. "She suffered so much before she died. Why do you get to be happy?" After killing me, he chopped my body up and fed it to the stray dogs. Then I opened my eyes—and found myself right back at the train station, before it departed. This time, I'd wait with him for the woman he loved so much. And I'd make him pay for everything he did to me and my pup.

MANAGING MAGES: Hawk had been tormenting me as long as I could remember. I was a young mage and my power was still growing. But they thrust me under his watch in the service to our Warlord. And damn him for enjoying every moment he can torment me. Every time I think my power strong enough to challenge him, he finds new ways to torture me. He's told me that I'm his little prey and he'll be kinder when I succumb to him but I've vowed to never let the overbearing, insufferable cad put a hand on my bare skin. It's a battle of wills and wits. He may be more clever but I'm certainly more stubborn! But one thing I've learned about Hawk, never underestimate his conniving...I should've known better than to challenge him. After all, he's made a name for himself by his skill in Managing Mages. But beyond him there is an even bigger problem. Warlord: The Commander of the Mage's Guild. A ruthless killer who leaves a dark mist in his wake. Escaping the Mage's Guild would mean challenging Warlord himself. A dangerous endeavor. WARLORD'S WARD He came into our village like a shadow. A Dark Mage with the most powerful magic in all the realm. King Detry merely calls him Warlord. And he owns that title. Leaving wreckage in his wake. But for me, he had other plans. His cutting blue eyes seeing straight through my disguise. As his slave, his mere plaything, I'll learn the true darkness of magic without conscience. Anything he wants of me, he takes. Anything he wants me to do. I am willed to do with the flick of his hand. His power is an all consuming whirlwind. And I'm just the pretty butterfly caught in it.