Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

Sacrificed To The Sea Lord

Mated to the Mad Lord

#Rated 18-Mature Themes Violet’s life was never her own—her father’s crushing debt made sure of that. But when the debt collector kidnaps her as payment, she takes a desperate deal: become a servant and spy on the mysterious and tyrannical Lord Cain, the ruler of her Werewolf district. There’s just one catch: Lord Cain only permits male servants in his house. Disguised as a boy, Violet cuts her hair, flattens her chest, and dons a voice-altering band to pull off the deception. Everything goes according to plan—until Cain, a man known for his cold personality starts to take a peculiar interest in her. Violet’s disguise becomes a prison as she battles her own growing attraction to him. But this is no love story. Cain’s obsession to her is dangerous. Beneath his icy gaze lies a mind fractured by years of affliction by a curse. A curse made by Violet's biological mother: A powerful witch. ************* "TAKE IT OFF!" Violet’s knees nearly buckled at the thunderous command, her chest tightening with panic. The raw anger in Cain’s voice was as sharp as a blade. "My lord! I-I’m a man!" she stammered, gripping her shirt tightly, her fingers trembling as they clung to the fabric. "I don't like other men!" she cried, a desperate plea in her voice since the second she took her shirt off and he discovered that she was a woman was the moment she died. Painfully. Cain’s glare was unyielding, his voice dropping into a growl. "Don’t insult me, You think I do. You kissed me!" Her breath hitched as he stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "If you don’t take it off," he said, his tone low and dangerous, "I’ll rip it off myself." Violet’s mind raced, panic threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn’t let him find out—he’d kill her. Painfully. Glancing away to avoid his gaze when she caught the undeniable bulge in his trousers. Heat flushed her face, her thoughts spinning in desperation at the only idea she could think of to make him back off. 'This has to work. It has to…’
Colorful_madness · 341.4K Views

Ashes Of Deep Sea

Duncan Abnomar was transmigrated to a magical world. Most of the lands of the world had sunken, and the surviving humans could only live on islands. Due to an unknown reason, the world was also contaminated and strange phenomena and things would randomly appear. Humans had developed steam gear technology, and the islands were connected through boats. They survived by studying strange phenomena that happened all around the world. However, as the captain of a scary-looking ghost ship, Duncan was facing a huge challenge. "How the heck do I steer this ship?" Highly recommended by experienced editor: MC is transmigrated to a world mostly covered in water and far from civilization. He becomes the captain of the ghost ship, the 'Homeloss'. He steers through the fog and adventures through the broken world and the unknown deep sea. As he discovers the ruins of abandoned civilization, he would also stumble into the war between the strange phenomena and the devil gods. The story takes place in a combination of ocean and Chutly mythology world, a new and interesting background. It’s an attractive story to read due to the author’s sense of humor and mastery over the ambiance of the story. --------------- Another-style introduction: "On that day, a thick fog engulfed everything. On that day, he became the captain of a ghost ship. On that day, he crossed the dense fog and faced a completely overturned and shattered world – the former order was completely gone, and peculiar phenomena dominated the endless seas beyond civilized society. The island city-states and the fleets challenging the sea have become the only lights of civilization left, while the shadows of old days still lurk in the deep sea, waiting to devour this dying world again. But for the new captain, there's only one pressing question – Does anyone know how to sail this damn ship?!"
Yuan Tong · 762.2K Views

Lord of the Steam

As the saying goes, "Hard times create strong men." It’s a phrase the Valorian nobles love to throw around, a shiny little motto they use to justify their oppression of the lower classes. Up there, near the sky, where the air is cleaner and the sun actually reaches, they live in their glittering towers, untouched by the rot that festers below. Down here, in the depths, it’s a different story. Rats gnaw on the corpses of those killed for a few dollars or maybe it was just a bar fight that went wrong, ending with one of the responsables with a bullet to the head. Who knows? Who cares? That’s just life at the lower levels. Brutal, ugly, and short. I’m one of the lucky ones, if you can call it that. Thanks to my aunt’s tireless efforts, I managed to claw my way into the Valorian Military Academy. Don’t let the fancy name fool you... it’s just a glorified cannon fodder factory. But hey, at least I get paid while I’m here, and that’s more than most lowlifes like me can say. Still, the question gnaws at me... Will I even live long enough to pay my aunt back for everything she’s done for me? Cadets like me are sent on patrols to "maintain order" in the lower districts, which is just a polite way of saying we’re thrown into the meat grinder. The mafias down here don’t care about uniforms or badges. They’ll kill you just for looking at them wrong. And today? Today’s my first time leading a small squad of cadets on patrol. We’ve been assigned to one of the "safest" areas in the lower districts... as if such a place even exists. The air is thick with the stench of decay, and the streets are lined with hollow-eyed faces that have seen too much and given up on hope. But that’s not even the worst part. No, the worst part is her.... This cheeto-headed girl!!
Shazorwy · 6.3K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 707.1K Views
Related Topics
More