Victor of Tucson - Chapter 4: The Rusty Nail

In the novel, the wealthy CEO male lead has a villainous stepmother. She put up a front of being nice and tender to him, when in fact she was bullying the male lead with her son. After she had successfully driven the male lead and his father apart, her ambition continued to grow as she attempted to take away the inheritance from the male lead. In the second half of the book, the truth came out — that the father had no feelings for her whatsoever but was merely using the two of them to hone his son’s character. In the end, both the stepmom and her son were sent to jail by the male lead after he took over the family business.

Yan Shuyu transmigrated and became the well-hated villainous stepmother, but she had transmigrated to the time before everything happened, and the male lead was still a foolish child. Only a fool would want to become the stepmother of a foolish child. Yan Shuyu took a longing look at her “assigned husband”, who was pretty much like the Sleeping Beauty, before she quickly packed up and made a run for it.

After that, Yan Shuyu checked out her $250 remaining on her card. She turned to look at her son, who was clinging onto her leg and asking for milk. She wanted to look up at the sky and howl. Is it too late to go back to become the male lead’s whetstone?

- Description from Novelupdates

That feeling of ripping through your enemies and the feel of their hot blood washing over your body.

What better way to relax the body after a glorious victory than indulging in the carnal pleasure from conquered women.

All Evary Seth desires is supreme power, carnal pleasure, to screw his wife whenever he can and of course, to conquer his ridiculously powerful mother-in-law.

Seth wants to be the strongest, but who is stronger? A primordial fiend? Or its creator, a God?

What do Gods do when their biggest attack dog turns on them.

……………………………………………………………

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He was confused, so he asked, “I have a car, a house, good-looks and money. What am I lacking in?”

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

******

“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.