Novel & Cerita The Branded Swordsman

“No! Cassian, wait…” Angela moans, panting hard after an earth-shattering org*sm. “This is... this is very wrong.” She lets out, battling her overwhelming desires, and rationality as her palm pushes against the taut chest of the man above her. "It's forbidden." she gasps. “Tell me you don't crave this as much as I do, and I promise I won't disturb you ever again,” Cassian mutters hoarsely, lust and desire burning in his eyes, as he looks down at Angela's flushed face, her eyes mirroring his, and her body quivering with need beneath him. “Take me,” she purrs, and he doesn't waste time claiming her… ~~~~▪•♤~~~•♧•~~~♤▪•~~~~ Angela thought she was crazy for having a crush on her brother. He was off limits, a forbidden fruit she should only fantasize about. What she didn't expect was the moon goddess pairing them as mates on her 21st birthday. The goddess must be crazy, she thought, for allowing such an abomination. She's force to reject her brother or be sent abroad, a decision her parents claims is the right one. However, it seems she wasn't the only crazy one; Cassian, her brother, wanted her for himself, and he was willing to go against everyone to keep her. Their parents and elders of the pack also weren't willing to back down; they were prepared to go to great lengths to prevent their bond from taking root. Will these two be able to overcome all obstacles and stay together? But know this, the Moon Goddess does not bind blood. Her choice is never a mistake. FIRST BOOK COMPLETED! SECOND BOOK ONGOING... Branded traitor, enslaved, and betrayed, pregnant Caroline dies after her mate orders their unborn child killed. Reborn a month before tragedy, she'll rewrite fate while her obsessed mate fights destiny and desire.

My husband, Theo Hudson, is known for being very frugal. After marrying him, my only hobby is to keep buying branded bags, just to get back at Theo for being extremely stingy with his money. When our son, Oliver Hudson, is seven years old, he has successfully inherited the tendency to be overly frugal from Theo. Both father and son look very out of place in the sprawling manor. I, on the other hand, love wearing anything from the haute couture selection of the season while admiring the heartbroken expressions on Theo's and Oliver's faces when they see the bill. But one day, live comments begin streaking across my eyes. "Wait, this wasteful woman is still splurging on bags? Does she have no idea that her husband's company is about to file for bankruptcy?" "The poor male lead has already worn his T-shirt so many times to the point it's starting to fray just to sustain that vampiric wife of his! Thank goodness the female lead, who's brilliant with finances, is about to enter his life!" "I shall wait for Theo to bring up divorce and kick that useless hag who does nothing but spend his money out of his life! Let's see how she's going to fight for scraps with the strays beneath the bridge in the future!" I'm so shocked that I hurl the limited Hermes bag I was clutching in a random direction. Unfortunately, Theo, who's crouching on the floor while opening the packages for me, and Oliver, who's flattening the boxes by stomping on them, get hit by the bag. Scared out of my wits, I quickly snatch the cardboard from Oliver's hands and hug it tightly. "I… I'm not buying these bags anymore! Let's get a refund! But keep the cardboard boxes and don't sell them! I… I want to use them as makeshift mattresses for when we're about to sleep under the bridge in the future…"

After the wolf packs clashed, my sister's mate, Jacob, returned safely. But my mate, Liam, lost his life on the battlefield. The entire pack mourned my misfortune. Yet deep inside, I knew the truth. The one who came back was not Jacob—it was my mate, Liam. They were twin wolves, equal in strength and nearly impossible to tell apart. No one noticed the difference. Not even my sister, who sensed the lie through the mate bond, chose to speak up. In my past life, Liam once told me, "Elena, I'm doing this for the future of our pack's territory. My brother is the Alpha's heir. If the pack finds out he's dead, it will cause chaos. Your sister is pure and gentle. She couldn't endure the pain of losing her mate. I'm only standing in as Jacob, looking after her for a while. Once the pack stabilizes, I will come back to you." And I believed him… until the night of the eclipse… when Liam branded me a traitor and executed me with his own hands. As I lay dying, I saw him standing close beside Isabella, and the truth finally hit me: it had all been his scheme from the very beginning. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our victory—the day word spread that Liam had fallen in battle. Yet there he was—"Jacob"—holding my sister tenderly, while the pack looked my way with pity. This time, I chose differently. I severed the mate bond and knelt before the Moon Goddess, begging her to grant me a new mate. Liam believed that by pretending to be his brother, he could claim the title of Alpha of the Black Moon Pack. But he never realized—by abandoning me, he had already destroyed the only path that could lead him to the Alpha's throne.

As a low-income student who's specifically recruited by the elite college this year, I can still feel my hands trembling as I clutch the letter that tells me I get to study for free. Not only are my tuition and miscellaneous fees waived, but I also get to receive 30 thousand dollars' worth of student grant per year. I even get to have free access to the leather seats inside the library, the equipment inside the gym, as well as the aerial garden on the roof. The best surprise for me has to be the cafeteria. All low-income students get a 50% discount on their meals, but the quality of their food doesn't decrease at all. Best beef is used in the steak dinners offered by the cafeteria, whereas a seafood platter showcases the entire huge lobster. Even the most basic mac and cheese meal has different types of freshly grated cheese baked into it. As I sit in the brightly lit classroom and look at the rich students around me, who wear custom-made uniforms and have branded watches latched around their wrists, all I have is one thought. I must be on good terms with them. But my seatmate, who's also a low-income student, isn't as thrilled as me. In fact, she just looks at the people around her with disdain in her eyes. After the first lesson, a rich student arrives at our table. He might not sound polite at all, but at least he's not putting on airs. "Do any of you have time to head over to the cafeteria and buy me breakfast?" I'm about to respond to him when a shrill voice booms out next to me. "You're so annoying! What, you think you rule the campus since you're rich? Had I known that this classroom is filled with useless scions like you who just waste their lives away on nothing, I wouldn't have enrolled in this college in the first place!"

They've called me a lot of things; Desperate, reckless and stupid. My name is Arthur Rowen, and three months ago, my world ended. My father was murdered—skull branded on his forehead like a sick calling card, Lionel family signature marking him as a traitor. My twin brother Asher vanished the same night without a trace, like he never existed. The police won't help because Lionel's own them. So I did what any desperate, reckless, stupid person would do: I got myself hired at The Pit of Lust, the Lionel family's underground sex club. The plan was simple: infiltrate, investigate, find Asher, get out. Then Andreas Lionel noticed me. Seven years older, dangerously beautiful, rumored to have appetites that would make a devil blush. The man who might have signed my father's death warrant. He wants me in his private suite, in his bed and under his control. Maybe I should run and while I'm at it, I should remember why I'm here but Andreas touches me like I'm something precious, not another pretty body in his collection. Fucks me like he's trying to ruin me for anyone else, while somehow making me feel whole for the first time in my life. The worst part? It's working and my legs are spreading with each passing night shamelessly. I'm falling for the man who destroyed my family. My brother is still missing and my father is still dead. And I'm still lying to the one person who's made me feel alive. They say revenge is a dish best served cold. No one warned me it would taste like whiskey and sin on Andreas Lionel's tongue Or that I'd crave the flavor like an additive.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.

On my birthday, my wife, Iris Lockwood, has ordered a few workers to carry a dust-covered second-hand air conditioner home as my birthday present. She points at the air conditioner while gushing excitedly, "This is a big brand, you know! It might look dirty on the outside, but the insides are brand new! "Remember, we're scrimping all the pennies we can get in order to move into a penthouse in the future. That way, we'll be able to live comfortably as a family of three!" I'm very understanding toward Iris, seeing as it's very difficult to earn money nowadays. So, I endure the pain that's flaring from an old hip injury I've sustained during my early days as a manual laborer as I crouch on the floor and clean the air conditioner for two long hours. But as soon as it's turned on, chemical powder sprays from it, soon filling the whole apartment. Because of that, our three-year-old son, Flynn Holt, goes into shock immediately from the severe allergy. With red-rimmed eyes, I yell at Iris to take Flynn to the hospital. But she quickly leaves after taking a phone call. "Crap, my biggest client is met with a car accident! I need to deal with it right away! You can flag down a cab and take Flynn to the hospital on your own!" That midnight, I head over to Quantum Heights, which is known as the most luxurious residence in the city, after receiving a phone call regarding the wrong address. In the corridor, I see Iris embracing a young man. She has nothing but love and affection for him. "There's no need to save money, you know. Young men at your age love new and branded goods, don't you?" Right… To Iris, a useless husband like me who didn't have an educational background only deserved to use second-hand things. But even the most saintly man will revolt one day once his patience is worn out. Besides, I've been faking my nice, understanding personality all along.

My daughter, Bessie Garcia, had very little self-discipline. The only reason she studied at all was that I constantly pushed her. Three months before the SATs, I could not resist sending a question to myself ten years into the future. “Did Bessie get into an Ivy League school? What kind of job does she have now? Please tell me the last three years of hard work were worth it! How far have Meera and I gotten on our trip around the world? Did we have a second child?” A hopeful smile spread across my face. Then, I saw the man on the other side of the screen. His skin was sallow. He was so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. “An Ivy League school? After graduation, she publicly accused you of controlling and emotionally abusing her for more than ten years. The entire internet branded you a sick, controlling father. Meera divorced you and went on to have a child with her first love. As for you… years of staying up late, putting your life on hold, and constantly supervising Bessie’s studies left you with terminal pancreatic cancer. Your daughter and ex-wife have cut you out of their lives completely. You have only one month left to live.” I was stunned. Just then, Bessie’s voice sounded from her room as she talked to someone online. “My dad? He’s a pathetic control freak. His wife doesn’t love him, so he takes it out on me by trying to control my life. The more he forces me to study, the worse I’ll bomb the exams! Watching him lose his mind in rage is the only satisfaction I get. Once the SATs are over, I’m moving out and cutting him out of my life for good!” Tears splashed against the back of my hand. A moment later, I withdrew her from every SATs prep course and sent her a text. [You don’t have to attend those tutoring classes anymore. From now on, I won’t ask anything of you. It’s your life, so you should get to decide how to live it.]