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  • Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel by Liz Nozic

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha's Secret Mate novel by Liz Nozic

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    My fiancé, Caleb Tucker, told me it was the last thing I could do for him.

    Then, he sold me to a cruel, greedy old man just to curry favor for his own political ambitions.

    I was branded like livestock, treated as nothing more than a vessel and a broodmare for a man I despised.

    When I desperately tried to resist this horrifying fate, I was beaten and left to bleed out in the biting cold.

    “Seraphina, it’s the last thing you can do for me.”

    His words were colder than the winter air as my life drained into the pristine white snow, his handsome face twisted with false regret.

    I died a miserable, invisible Omega servant, my blood staining the freezing ice while he secured his future.

    Until my last breath, I couldn’t understand how the man I loved could trade my life for a little bit of status, leaving me to die like a discarded piece of trash.

    Opening my eyes again, the searing pain of the branding iron was just a ghost on my unbroken skin.

    I was back in my cramped servant’s cell in Silvermoon Keep, right on the morning the Matriarch was choosing a breeder for the Alpha heir.

    This time, I wouldn’t run. I would willingly offer myself to Gideon Carlisle, the most powerful and cold-hearted Alpha of them all, and use him to secure my survival.

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    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 1

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    “Take off your dress.”
    My fingertips trembled slightly, and a flush crept up my neck. Obeying the Matriarch’s command, I untied the rough sash at my waist. The coarse linen pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a thin, white undergarment that barely covered my body.
    As I shifted my weight, the fabric rode up, exposing the pale curve of my waist. In the dim morning light, my skin looked like fine porcelain.
    Yet, Isadora Carlisle, the Pack’s Matriarch, and her stern lady-in-waiting, Agatha, didn’t even glance at my waist. Their sharp eyes were fixed entirely on my hips, which were noticeably fuller than those of the other Omega servants. Suddenly, their eyes lit up.
    “Matriarch, I believe Seraphina is a fine choice,” Agatha said, a calculating smile on her lips. “She has the wide hips of a strong breeder, perfect for bearing pups. Moreover, she’s been trained in your quarters for years. She knows her place and won’t try to bewitch the Alpha heir.”
    “Indeed, your eyes are as sharp as ever, Agatha,” Isadora said, a satisfied smile appearing on her well-preserved face. “Seraphina, prepare yourself. You will serve the Alpha heir tonight.”
    I was one of her personal servant girls, and the more she looked at me, the more satisfied she seemed. She had made her decision.
    I knelt obediently on the cold stone floor, but as I heard her words, a wave of dizziness washed over me.
    In my past life, I had knelt in this exact spot. Except then, I was fully dressed. When the Matriarch ordered me to undress for the breeding inspection, I had refused without hesitation. “I already have a mate chosen, Caleb Tucker. I beg for your mercy, Matriarch.”
    The Pack usually treated their servants decently. Though displeased, Isadora had granted my release and handed me my freedom papers. I thought I could take my saved coins, return to Caleb, and live a simple life. But instead, Caleb and my family broke my leg and sold me to Jedediah Hicks, a cruel, eighty-year-old merchant, just to curry favor.
    And then… the biting snow, the blood, the agonizing death. Just thinking about it made my chest tight with suffocating pain.
    My eyelashes fluttered. I quickly pressed my forehead to the floor, forcing my voice to tremble with overwhelming gratitude. “Thank you, Matriarch, for this immense honor!”
    Seeing that I didn’t show the desperate, ambitious greed of other foolish Omegas, Isadora’s approval deepened.
    “Seraphina, the Alpha heir has been mated for three years but remains childless,” Isadora said, her voice dropping. “If you can give birth to a strong Alpha male pup, he will be the next heir of Silvermoon Keep.”
    She paused, watching me. I made sure to widen my eyes just a fraction, projecting the perfect blend of reverence and naive yearning. She nodded, completely satisfied. This was what she wanted: an Omega who would dedicate her life to serving the heir and continuing the Carlisle bloodline.
    “You are a maid from my own courtyard. Even the Luna will not dare to look down on you,” Isadora continued, sliding a heavy silver moonstone bracelet from her wrist and placing it onto my arm.
    I looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you for your grace, Matriarch. I swear to serve the Alpha heir with my life and ease your burdens.”
    After I bowed one last time, she dismissed me.
    Once I stepped out of her quarters, the feigned reverence vanished from my eyes, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness. I caught the envious glares of the other Omega servants in the corridor, and a mocking smile touched my lips.
    If I had a choice, I would gladly trade places with them. I had absolutely no desire to be a lowly breeder. I just wanted to survive until I was old enough to leave the Keep and live in peace.
    Gideon had been mated for three years. Neither his Luna nor his two chosen females had produced a pup. Either there was something wrong with the Alpha himself, or there was a deadly game of sabotage being played among his mates. Having a pup in that environment would be practically impossible.
    Even if I did miraculously get pregnant, given Isadora’s ruthless nature, it was highly likely she would take the pup and dispose of the mother. I could lose my life anyway. If I wasn’t driven into a corner by my past, I would never willingly become a breeder.
    But right now, I needed to use Gideon Carlisle’s formidable power as a shield to destroy Caleb and those greedy bastards from my past. To do that, I had to play the long game. And the first hurdle was surviving tonight.
    Gideon was a man of strict discipline. If he refused to touch me tonight, I would become the laughingstock of the Keep by morning, and Isadora might just throw me out. Remembering Caleb and the old merchant waiting outside these walls, I took a deep breath. No matter what methods I had to use, I had to make the Alpha heir claim me tonight.
    Late into the night, I was led to the Heir’s Quarters. Bathed and dressed in a sheer, whisper-thin silk nightgown, I knelt quietly by the edge of the massive bed.

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 2

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    The gossamer fabric clung to my curves, and my pale skin glowed faintly in the candlelight. With my naturally cold and timid demeanor, I looked like a fallen moon spirit—a sight meant to entice.
    The guards had said the Alpha Heir was still working in his study. I waited for a full two hours before heavy footsteps echoed outside.
    The doors swung open. Gideon Carlisle stepped into the room. Earlier today, his mother, Matriarch Isadora, had mentioned sending a servant to his bed, but he clearly hadn’t expected to find me already waiting in his private chambers. His dark brows furrowed slightly.
    I looked up at exactly the right moment. My violet eyes were shimmering, carrying a perfect balance of shyness and submission, meeting his gaze directly.
    But Gideon just stood there. He looked at me with the same calm indifference one might use to appraise a piece of furniture. There was no lust, no surprise in his eyes—only a cold, almost detached scrutiny.
    His oppressive Alpha aura made my chest tighten. Biting my lip, I forced myself to stand. “Alpha Heir… please allow me to help you out of your clothes.”
    As I approached him, a flush warming my cheeks, Gideon actually took a step back.
    Everyone in the Pack knew he was a man who lived by rules. He visited his Luna, Eleanor, during the full moon, and his other females on strictly scheduled days. I knew that if he accepted me, a breeder Omega, it would mean adding another exhausting obligation to his routine.
    Rutting without purpose drained energy, and Gideon was clearly unwilling. Just as he opened his mouth, undoubtedly to dismiss me, a knock came at the door.
    Agatha’s voice filtered through. “Alpha Heir, the Matriarch ordered me to bring you the Elk-Blood and Moon-Herb elixir.”
    It was a potent Alpha stamina brew. It was Isadora’s way of forcing his hand.
    Gideon let out a quiet sigh. It was no secret how obsessed his mother was with getting a grandson, especially since his younger half-brother already had two pups, parading them around the Keep daily to flaunt in front of the Matriarch.
    “Leave the elixir, Agatha. Tell my mother I understand,” Gideon replied, his voice deep and resigned.
    Agatha’s receding footsteps sounded almost cheerful; she clearly knew her master would never outright defy his mother’s wishes regarding the Pack’s lineage.
    Once she was gone, Gideon turned his cold gaze back to me. “Let’s get to bed, then.”
    He raised his arms, waiting for me to undress him.
    Having served in the Matriarch’s quarters, I was used to this. I stepped forward, my hands moving deftly to remove his heavy outer coat, secretly studying him as I did.
    In my past life, I had never dared to look at him. The other maids always whispered about his god-like beauty. Seeing him up close now, the rumors were true. Sharp jawline, eyes like midnight, a physique carved from granite. If I had to endure this to change my fate, at least the man I was serving was breathtaking.
    After removing his shirt, I gently untied my own sheer outer robe. It slipped to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a crimson silk camisole embroidered with delicate lace.
    The vibrant red contrasted sharply with my milky skin. My chest heaved slightly, the delicate curves of my body fully exposed—a living, breathing painting of temptation.
    Any other male in the Pack would have lost their minds and tackled me to the rugs. But Gideon wasn’t a normal man. He barely spared my body a glance, his eyes quickly returning to their icy calm.
    Just as I was frantically wondering what my next move should be, he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me under the heavy furs of the bed.
    Under the heavy velvet canopy, I threw my arms around Gideon, pulling him close.
    I was actually quite pleased at this moment. Secretly, I slipped a small, specially treated piece of white cloth under the pillows—my proof of the night. Even though, as a designated breeder Omega, I wasn’t strictly required to present proof of consummation to the Matriarch or his official mate, my past life had taught me to always leave a backup plan. Even when serving the Alpha Heir, I couldn’t afford to leave any loopholes for my enemies.

    Reborn As The Cold Alpha’s Secret Mate novel Chapter 3

    SERAPHINA’S POV:
    Gideon didn’t say anything as he positioned himself over me. My smile was still plastered on my face, but a second later, it completely vanished.
    His posture was rigid, almost more textbook than a medical manual. Those glacial blue eyes held absolutely zero lust or emotion. It made my entire body stiffen.
    Wait… do his mates not require any tenderness at all?
    I’ve been given a second chance at life. Is it too much to ask to enjoy this at least a little bit?
    With that thought in mind, I put on my most affectionate gaze and reached out to grasp Gideon’s large hands.
    This was clearly the first time the Alpha Heir had ever been interrupted during his “duty.” He stopped immediately, looking down at me with a mixture of confusion and growing impatience.
    “Alpha Heir,” I forced my voice into a syrupy, sweet register—so high and cloying my throat practically burned. “You work so hard for the Pack all day. Let your servant take care of you tonight. I want to… do it myself. Please, indulge me just this once?”
    He stared at me without a word, his dark, stormy eyes making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.
    Did I piss him off?
    Not daring to delay any further, I gave him a seductive smile of thanks and boldly looped my arms around his neck.
    He had clearly never seen such aggressive initiative from an Omega before. He froze for a split second, allowing me to slip into his guard. I could almost hear him thinking: What kind of unruly Omega did the Matriarch send me?
    He reached out, pinning my shoulders down to stop my movements, his face darkening as he growled softly, “Insolent!”
    A flicker of Alpha satisfaction crossed his face as he saw the mist of tears welling up in my eyes.
    I let out a tiny, exaggerated shudder at his bark, stopping my movements instantly and staring up at him like a frightened little deer. But a second later, I brazenly grabbed his hand again.
    “What are you doing?” he snapped.
    I looked up at him innocently, laughing inwardly. Sure enough, a man’s fingers are always sensitive, and this Alpha Heir is no exception.
    I immediately swapped my expression to one of absolute, starry-eyed worship, cooing in my most delicate, breathy voice, “Alpha Heir, the outsiders always say you rely on the Matriarch’s power for your status. But feeling the thick calluses on your knuckles and fingertips… I know you earned all your glory through your own blood, sweat, and battles!”
    Being looked at with such sheer adoration clearly stroked his ego. I could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—he felt validated, yet he kept his face stern and scolded, “Speak properly. Do not try to curry favor.”
    “Yes~” I purred, dragging the word out with enough twists and turns to make an Alpha’s bones itch.
    Looking into my wide, innocent eyes, Gideon seemed to know damn well I was doing it on purpose. Annoyed, but undeniably aroused, he crashed his lips down to silence my mouth.
    Seeing that my tactic worked, I immediately took the initiative. I have to admit, the experience turned out much better than I had initially expected.
    When it was over, I lay on the massive bed with a hidden look of disgust. If I sleep on this overly ornate, stiff bed all night, I’ll wake up with a sore back. I’m just here to do a job, not to play true love with the Alpha Heir. Whoever wants to suffer this bed can have it.
    Thinking of this, I dutifully crawled out from under the covers, dressed myself quickly, and grabbed my proof of the night. I gave Gideon a flawless, respectful bow. “Alpha Heir, I will not disturb your rest any longer. I shall take my leave.”
    Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked out.
    My swift departure seemed to catch Gideon completely off guard. As I walked away, I knew I had likely shattered whatever preconceived notions he had about me. He probably thought I was just another well-trained Omega sent by his mother, expecting me to be like those ambitious females who always begged to stay the night after the act, or worse, ignored his exhaustion to demand a second round just to secure favor. By leaving gracefully, I had spared him that annoyance, perhaps even earning his silent forgiveness for my earlier “unruly” behavior.
    Honestly, I didn’t care at all about Gideon’s attitude toward me. The mission was accomplished, and I just wanted a good night’s sleep.
    I hurried back to the modest servant’s quarters assigned to me, scrubbed myself clean with warm water, and collapsed onto my own bed, limbs spread wide like a starfish.
    I calculated in my head: With this, I won’t have to worry about failing the Matriarch’s inspection tomorrow. My position in the Pack is secure for now.
    I let out a long sigh, my tense nerves finally relaxing, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
    That was, until the early hours of the morning, when a maid named Daisy frantically shook me awake.
    “Seraphina, wake up! It’s time to go to the main estate and pay your respects to the Luna!”

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  • Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. by Zhao Da

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. by Zhao Da
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    Anja woke up in an interstellar empire where females were precious assets-and promptly got dumped by her arrogant fiancé.

    He waited for her to cry. She laughed in his face.

    With a single thumbprint, she dissolved the marriage, kicked him out with security drones, and walked straight to the government assessment center. The test revealed something impossible: an S-Class psionic rating, the highest in a century.

    Now five elite, beast-eared warriors are being dispatched to her estate. They’re dangerous. Possessive. And genetically engineered to worship her.

    But Anja doesn’t just want protection. She wants power. Every corrupted warrior she purifies makes her stronger. Every Hive Core she absorbs pushes her abilities further. And every Consort she claims adds a new weapon to her arsenal.

    Her ex wanted her to be nothing. Too bad for him-she’s about to become everything.

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    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 1

    Anja’s eyes snapped open.
    A spike of pain, sharp and blinding, shot through her skull. It felt like her brain being split in two. She gasped, a ragged sound in the dead quiet of the room, her hand flying to her forehead as if she could physically hold the pieces of her mind together.
    The bed was wrong.
    It was too soft, the sheets like cool silk against her skin. A low hum vibrated through the mattress, a subtle, calming frequency. Her bedroom in her tiny off-campus apartment had a lumpy mattress and scratchy polyester sheets.
    Memories, not her own, crashed into her consciousness. The Commonwealth. A sprawling interstellar empire. Genetic corruption. Psionic abilities. The ratio of females to males was one to one hundred thousand. Females were rare, precious assets, revered wherever they went. A society where matrimonial contracts were brokered by a central authority dedicated to finding males worthy of their scarce females.
    And a name. Kenny Mcdaniel. Her fiancé.
    Before she could fully process any of it, a voice rang out from the doorway. “Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you!”
    The door to the bedroom slammed open, the sound cracking through the silence like a gunshot.
    A man strode in. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a suit that was trying too hard to look expensive. It was tailored just a little too tight across the shoulders, the fabric a synthetic blend that caught the light with a cheap sheen. He carried himself with an unearned arrogance, his chin tilted up as he looked down his nose at her.
    Kenny Mcdaniel.
    The name clicked into place with a fresh wave of nausea.
    He sneered, a curl of his lip that was meant to be disdainful but only made him look petulant. “Finally awake, are we? Don’t bother putting on a show. I’m not here to play games.”
    Anja just stared at him, her mind a whirlwind of two lives colliding. One was a college student from Earth, drowning in student loans and surviving on instant noodles. The other was Anja Compton, heiress to a minor noble house, betrothed to this… this peacock. And from the memories of the original Anja, she could see the woman had been utterly blind. She had cried over him, pleaded for his attention, and rearranged her entire life to please him. For what? For a male of thoroughly average looks—decent, but nothing special—whose only remarkable feature was his physique, which was standard issue for any male who had completed the mandatory academy training. He had been handed a priceless gem on a silver platter and somehow convinced himself he deserved better. What a joke.
    “I’m here to make things perfectly clear,” Kenny continued, pacing in front of her bed like a lawyer in a courtroom drama. “This political arrangement our families cooked up? It’s over. I’ve found someone I actually love. Someone who understands me. I will not sacrifice my happiness for some dusty old family alliance.”
    He punctuated his speech by slapping a thin, transparent data slate onto the polished wood of the nightstand. The clack was sharp and final. An electronic contract glowed on its surface: Agreement for Matrimonial Annulment.
    “So you can take your pathetic, clingy affections and find someone else to bother,” he spat, his voice rising with theatrical fervor. “I’m telling you now, Anja. Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you!”
    Anja slowly pushed herself up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. The headache was receding, replaced by a strange, icy calm. The Anja from Earth thought he was a joke. A weak, insecure man puffing up his chest to feel powerful in front of a woman he perceived as weaker. It was pathetic. And frankly, hilarious.
    She let a slow, deliberate gaze travel from his cheap shoes up to his self-satisfied face. Then she met his eyes.
    “Are you done?” she asked. Her voice was quiet, devoid of the hysteria he was clearly expecting.
    Kenny froze mid-stride. The triumphant look on his face faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. “What?”
    “Your performance,” Anja clarified, leaning back against the plush headboard. She crossed her arms. “The big, dramatic speech. Was that the grand finale, or is there an encore?”
    He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing silently. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to cry. To beg. To make a scene that would validate his decision and allow him to storm out as the wronged, romantic hero.
    “You think this is a joke?” he stammered, his voice losing its confident edge. He puffed his chest out again, a desperate attempt to regain control. “I’m serious, Anja! I’m leaving you!”
    “I heard you the first time,” she said, her tone bored. “You want to end the engagement. Great. Let’s do it.”
    She didn’t even glance at the data slate he had thrown down. She simply looked towards the empty air near the door.
    “Unit 01,” she commanded.
    A soft, synthesized voice replied instantly from an unseen speaker. “Yes, Mistress Anja.”
    “Access the Federal Marriage Center,” she ordered. “Project the annulment agreement and initiate the signing protocol.”
    “At once.”
    A holographic panel of brilliant blue light materialized in the air beside the bed, displaying the contract in crisp, clear text. At the bottom, a glowing box waited for a biometric signature.
    Kenny’s face went slack with shock. “What are you doing? That’s not—you can’t just—”
    Anja ignored him. She reached out, her fingers steady, and pressed her thumb against the glowing box. The system chimed, a clear, pleasant tone that echoed in the tense silence.
    BIOMETRIC SIGNATURE VERIFIED. ANJA COMPTON HAS UNILATERALLY DISSOLVED THE MATRIMONIAL CONTRACT. STATUS: FINALIZED.
    The words burned in the air for a moment before the holographic panel dissolved.
    Almost immediately, a series of chimes sounded from the room’s speaker system. A new, distinctly official synthesized voice read out three consecutive messages:
    “Message from the Federal Marriage Center: Esteemed Lady Anja, your matrimonial contract has been successfully dissolved. You are now returned to single status.”
    “Message from the Federal Marriage Center: Esteemed Lady Anja, there are hundreds of millions of males in the Commonwealth. If one lacks vision, there will always be another. Please do not let a male with poor taste affect your mood.”
    “Message from the Federal Marriage Center: Esteemed Lady Anja, should you desire, the Federal Marriage Center is ready at any moment to match you with new husbands. No upper limit.”
    Kenny stared at the empty space where the contract had been, then back at her. His expression was a comical mix of disbelief and panic. He had come here for a fight, for drama, for a validation of his own importance. He had not, under any circumstances, expected this easy, dismissive acceptance.
    “You… you just signed it?” he said, his voice a weak squeak. “Just like that? This is a trick. Some kind of game to make me feel guilty.”
    Anja gave him a small, pitying smile. “There’s no game, Kenny. You wanted out. You’re out. Congratulations. The door is over there. Get out of my house.”
    The shift was instantaneous. The moment she finished speaking, the AI’s synthesized voice spoke again, its tone now stripped of all warmth.
    “Warning,” Unit 01 announced. “Kenny Mcdaniel, your security clearance for this property has been revoked. You are now classified as an unauthorized intruder. You have ten seconds to vacate the premises before defensive measures are deployed.”
    A cold, red light began to sweep across the room, originating from a sensor near the ceiling.
    Kenny paled. “Your… your security? You can’t-“
    He was cut off by a heavy, mechanical whirring sound. Two panels in the ceiling slid open, and a pair of sleek, gunmetal-gray security drones descended. Their optical sensors glowed with the same menacing red light, and the barrels of their plasma weapons swiveled to lock directly onto his chest.
    Fear, primal and undignified, washed over Kenny’s face. All his practiced arrogance vanished. He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
    “Okay! Okay! I’m going!” he yelped, stumbling backward.
    The drones advanced on him silently, their movements perfectly synchronized, herding him towards the door. He tripped over the edge of an expensive rug, catching himself on the doorframe. He looked back at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and wounded pride, as if he wanted to say one last thing to salvage his dignity.
    Anja didn’t give him the chance.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice dripping with finality. “Close the door.”
    The heavy, soundproofed metal door slid shut with a deafening thud, cutting off his last pathetic look.
    Silence returned to the room.
    Anja fell back against the pillows, the silk cool against her neck. A long, slow breath escaped her lips. She felt a profound sense of release, of lightness. The headache was gone. The confusion was gone. She thought about the Federal Marriage Center’s final message—match her with new husbands. And the words “no upper limit” echoed in her memory from the original Anja’s knowledge of the law. A villa this large, five stories and hundreds of square meters per floor… it would be a shame to live in it alone, wouldn’t it? She wasn’t admitting anything. She was just curious.
    For the first time in this new world, she felt free.

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 2

    A new light bloomed in the room, soft and golden. It wasn’t sunlight.
    Anja turned her head. A holographic panel, the color of warm honey, floated in the air where the blue contract had been. It bore the official crest of The Commonwealth Eugenics & Pairing Directorate.
    A gentle, synthesized female voice, far more sophisticated than Unit 01’s, filled the room.
    “Congratulations, Citizen Anja Compton,” it purred. “Our records indicate you have successfully terminated your betrothal contract. Your status has been updated to ‘Unbonded.’ Welcome to a new chapter of your life.”
    The panel shimmered, and text began to scroll, listing the benefits that were now active for her.
    Federal Income Tax: Exempt.
    Property Tax, Core Worlds Sector: Exempt.
    Priority Purchase Rights, All A-Class Residential Zones: Activated.
    Tier-One Medical and Nutritional Subsidies: Activated.
    Personal Security Detail Allotment: Pending Review.
    Anja felt a breath catch in her throat. This wasn’t just a breakup; it was like winning the lottery. She had been vaguely aware of the laws from the memories she’d inherited, but seeing them laid out like this was staggering.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Pull up the Commonwealth’s legal statutes on marriage and asset sharing.”
    “Of course, Mistress,” the house AI replied.
    The golden panel was replaced by a dense wall of legal text.
    “Summarize,” Anja commanded, not in the mood to read hundreds of pages of legalese.
    Unit 01’s voice began a concise audio summary. It explained that due to the scarcity of females, the law was designed for their absolute protection and prosperity. A bonded male’s assets, income, and even inheritances were automatically and irrevocably linked to his Matron’s primary account. He was, in financial terms, an extension of her.
    And then came the part that made Anja’s jaw drop.
    “There is no legal upper limit to the number of Consorts a female may bond with,” Unit 01 stated calmly. “The formation of a Consortium is considered a private matter, encouraged by the Directorate as a means of ensuring genetic diversity and providing comprehensive support for the Matron.”
    No limit.
    Polygamy. No, polyandry. And it was legal. Encouraged, even.
    Anja thought back to Earth. The endless, bitter divorces. The fights over money. The prenuptial agreements that were more like business contracts than declarations of love. Here, the system was brutally simple: everything belonged to the woman.
    A laugh escaped her lips. It started as a small chuckle, then grew into a full-throated, joyous peel of laughter that echoed in the luxurious bedroom. This wasn’t a dystopia. It was a custom-built paradise.
    The system seemed to anticipate her thoughts. A new, shimmering button appeared on the golden panel: Initiate New Matching Cycle?
    Her laughter subsided into a wide, mischievous grin. She was tired of being sad and pathetic for a man like Kenny. It was time to see what this new world really had to offer.
    She tapped the button.
    The panel transformed into something that looked like a high-end, exclusive dating app. Profiles began to slide across the screen, each one featuring a stunningly handsome man. There were soldiers with chiseled jaws and intense eyes, businessmen in sharp suits with predatory smiles, artists with soulful gazes and long, clever fingers. Their stats were listed beside their photos: psionic grade, genetic lineage, net worth, military honors. It was a catalog of the most elite men in the Commonwealth.
    Anja scrolled, her interest piqued. She noticed a small tag on some of the profiles: Latent Bestial Morphology.
    Curious, she tapped on one. The profile expanded. In addition to the man’s primary photo, there were smaller, secondary images showing him with a pair of sharp, tufted wolf ears and a thick, bushy tail. The description noted these features were highly sensitive and could manifest during moments of heightened emotion.
    Fluffy ears. A tail.
    Anja felt an unexpected jolt of interest, a deep, primal pull that all the polished, perfectly suited men had never once managed to inspire.
    She quickly filled out the matching preference form that appeared at the bottom of the screen. Age range, psionic compatibility, asset level… and under ‘Physical Preferences,’ she decisively checked the box for Bestial Traits.
    Her finger hovered over the ‘Submit’ button. For a fleeting second, a flicker of the old Anja’s insecurity surfaced. The girl who thought she wasn’t good enough, the girl who had been convinced by Kenny that she was plain and worthless.
    Then the image of Kenny’s arrogant, sneering face flashed in her mind.
    She pressed the button. Hard.
    A confirmation message appeared: Application successfully uploaded to the Federal Central Database. Deep-level compatibility analysis is now underway.
    “Mistress,” Unit 01’s voice cut in, its tone impeccably polite, “Since you are celebrating your newfound freedom, shall I prepare a celebratory breakfast?”
    “Yes, absolutely,” Anja said, feeling lighter than she had in years. “Eggs Benedict. And real coffee. Black.”
    “An excellent choice.”
    She threw back the silk covers and stepped out of bed. Her bare feet sank into a thick wool carpet that was warm to the touch. The room was vast, with a walk-in closet the size of her old apartment and an adjoining bathroom that looked like a marble sanctuary.
    She walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window that made up one entire wall of the room. It overlooked a sprawling garden, with manicured lawns, a sparkling blue pool, and a forest of strange, beautiful alien trees in the distance.
    This was her life now. Safety. Luxury. Control.
    A soft, insistent chime broke her reverie. She turned back to the golden panel still hovering by her bed. A red warning icon was flashing.
    CRITICAL DATA MISSING. PSIONIC POTENTIAL ASSESSMENT: PENDING.
    The system’s gentle voice returned, now with a note of official firmness. “Citizen Compton, our records indicate you have not completed the mandatory Psionic Potential Assessment. This is a prerequisite for matching with Alpha-Plus class Consorts. Your matching cycle has been temporarily suspended.”
    Before she could even process that, the panel changed again, displaying a new document. It was an official, non-negotiable appointment.
    EMERGENCY APPOINTMENT: PSIONIC POTENTIAL TESTING CENTER. CAPITAL PRIME. TODAY.
    Anja stared at the screen. The original Anja had never gone. Kenny had told her it was a waste of time, that she was probably a worthless F-grade, and the embarrassment wouldn’t be worth it. He had systematically chipped away at her confidence until she believed him.
    Now, that little omission was standing between her and a lineup of handsome men with fluffy tails.
    Well, she thought with a grim smile. They were about to find out just how “worthless” she was.

    Dump One Loser, Gain Six Husbands. Chapter 3

    Anja read the appointment details again. The words mandatory and compulsory were highlighted in a severe, official red. Failure to attend would result in an indefinite freeze on her matching rights and a suspension of some of her newly acquired federal benefits.
    They weren’t asking. They were telling.
    “Mistress,” Unit 01’s voice chimed in, a flicker of something that might have been urgency in its synthesized tone, “You may wish to view the GalacticNet. Your status change has been… noted.”
    “Show me,” Anja said.
    The large window overlooking the garden dimmed, turning into a massive screen. It displayed the landing page of the most popular news network in the Commonwealth. Her own face stared back at her from the headline banner.
    ANJA COMPTON, HEIRESS OF HOUSE COMPTON, TERMINATES BETROTHAL. RETURNS TO UNBONDED STATUS.
    Below the headline, a ‘Trending Topics’ sidebar was dominated by her name. AnjaIsFree. ComptonConsortium. NewHopeForAlphaPlus.
    The screen began to populate with comments from a live public forum. Thousands of them, scrolling by in a dizzying cascade.
    “Finally! I knew Mcdaniel wasn’t good enough for her!”
    “An untested female from a noble line! This is the biggest news of the year!”
    “The matching pool is about to get a lot more interesting…”
    “Please, Mistress Compton, if you ever consider new consorts, review my profile. Class A psionic ability, five million credits, and I cook.”
    Anja stared, dumbfounded. It was one thing to read about the value of females in the abstract. It was another to see this raw, desperate, public thirst for her attention. The old Anja had wasted years crying over one mediocre male who didn’t want her, while thousands across the Commonwealth were practically begging for her attention. What a joke.
    She accessed the original Anja’s memories, searching for context. The Commonwealth was plagued by a low-level genetic corruption that affected all males. It was a slow-acting poison, a consequence of their psionic abilities, that caused irritability, aggression, and eventually, a descent into feral madness. The only cure, the only way to soothe the corruption, was the purifying psionic energy of a female. Males who lacked a female to purify them were forced to rely on suppressants—agonizing injections with devastating side effects.
    The demand was infinite. The supply was critically low.
    And an untested female, especially one from a good family, was the ultimate wild card. She could be a useless F-Grade, or she could be a world-changing A-Grade. The uncertainty, the sheer potential, was intoxicating. It was like a lottery where the jackpot was salvation.
    “Unit 01,” she said, her voice hard. “What’s the fastest way to get to the testing center in Capital Prime?”
    “The journey by private shuttle would take approximately forty-five minutes, Mistress. However, it appears alternative arrangements have been made.”
    Before Anja could ask what that meant, a low, powerful thrumming sound vibrated through the floor. It grew rapidly into a deafening roar, the sound of massive engines displacing a huge volume of air. The delicate curtains on her window whipped inward as a powerful downdraft hit the side of the house.
    Anja rushed to the window, peering up into the sky.
    A ship was descending. It wasn’t a sleek, civilian shuttle. It was a beast of a machine, matte black and brutally angular, a military transport vessel designed for assault landings. The official, silver crest of the Eugenics Directorate was emblazoned on its side.
    It settled onto the main lawn with a final, ground-shaking whump, its landing struts sinking inches into the perfectly manicured grass. A ramp hissed open at its rear. Twelve soldiers marched out in perfect synchronization. They were clad in black tactical armor, their faces hidden behind reflective visors, and they carried heavy-looking plasma rifles. They moved with terrifying efficiency, forming two perfect lines of six leading from the ramp towards the front door of the estate.
    A voice, amplified and resonant, boomed from the ship’s external speakers. It was deep, respectful, and utterly commanding.
    “Mistress Anja Compton. On behalf of the Commonwealth Eugenics Directorate, we are your designated escort to the Capital Prime Testing Center. Please prepare for immediate departure.”
    Anja stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn’t a taxi. This was a military operation. For her. Was she being escorted to a testing center or to a war zone?
    “Mistress, I have taken the liberty of selecting an appropriate outfit for the occasion,” Unit 01 said, its voice cutting through her shock. A panel on the wall of her closet slid open, revealing a simple but elegant outfit: dark, well-fitted trousers, a cream-colored silk blouse, and soft leather boots. It was understated, comfortable, but undeniably expensive. “I would advise you to change quickly.”
    Numbly, Anja did as she was told. She dressed with fumbling fingers, her mind still reeling from the sight of the armored ship on her lawn. This was real. This was happening.
    Guided by Unit 01’s soft light prompts, she walked through the silent, cavernous halls of the estate to the grand front entrance. She took a deep breath, her hand resting on the cool metal of the door handle. She thought about the comments she had just read—males begging for her attention, showing off their credits and their abilities. And then she thought about Kenny’s parting words: “Even if I die, even if I get exiled to a barren mining planet, I will never form a bond with you.” A small, bitter smile crossed her lips. He had spent years convincing her she was nothing. In a few minutes, the entire Commonwealth would know the truth.
    Then she pulled it open.
    The force of the soldiers’ collective gaze was a physical thing. They stood perfectly still, rifles held at a parade rest, but she could feel the intensity of their focus. It wasn’t threatening. It was… worshipful.
    The man at the front of the line, clearly the captain, took a step forward. He was taller than the others, his armor bearing subtle markings of rank. He removed his helmet, revealing a stern, handsome face with a sharp jaw and piercing gray eyes. He held the helmet under his arm and then, to Anja’s utter astonishment, he dropped to one knee before her on the stone steps.
    “Mistress Compton,” he said, his head bowed, “It is an honor. We have prepared a sterilized walkway for your convenience.”
    As he spoke, a thin, metallic carpet unrolled from the base of the ship’s ramp, gliding silently across the lawn to stop at her feet. It was a simple, practical measure to keep her boots from getting damp from the morning dew. It was also the most ridiculously reverent gesture she had ever witnessed.
    “Th-thank you, Captain,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
    The captain’s head dipped lower. “The honor is all ours, Ma’am.”
    Feeling as though she were in a dream, Anja stepped onto the walkway. She walked between the two lines of silent, armored sentinels, and she could feel that beneath their visors, their gazes devoutly tracked her every move. The air buzzed with their restrained energy.
    She stepped up the ramp and into the ship’s interior. It wasn’t the spartan, utilitarian hold she expected. It was a VIP cabin, furnished with plush, cream-colored leather chairs, polished chrome accents, and soft, indirect lighting. It looked more like the inside of a private jet than a military transport.
    The ramp hissed shut behind her, sealing her inside and cutting off the outside world. A small, silent service droid glided up to her, offering a chilled glass of champagne on a silver tray.
    Anja sank into one of the chairs, the leather sighing under her weight. She took the glass, the crystal cool against her trembling fingers. Through the cabin’s reinforced viewport, she watched her new home, her new life, shrink below as the ship ascended with breathtaking speed.
    A timer appeared on a small screen embedded in the armrest of her chair.
    Estimated Time to Arrival: 12 minutes.
    She stared at the descending numbers, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. There was no going back now.

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