The Cold Prince Dotes On His Wild Wife - Chapter 27

Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

She paused in front of her kitchen’s window when she noticed a lit lantern in front of her mansion’s garden. Her butler stood there, shovel in hand. This was no hour to be gardening.

Curious, she made her way outside, but when she had gotten close enough to see a large and hollow pit next to her eternally-stoic and polite butler, she saw him pick up a rotten body.

A DEAD BODY!

Her eyes widened fearfully when she saw her handsome butler drop the rotting body into the fresh hole. She asked in horror, ”What are you doing?!“

Surprised to see his young miss awake at this hour, he stared at her with the same expression he had been keeping up for all these years. He had made sure she was asleep before coming here.

“Gardening.”

“And the body?!”she looked at him in disbelief.

“Fertilizer,” he answered her before picking up the shovel that was on the ground. Belle was now certain something had possessed her butler. Who gardened dead bodies?!

She then heard him ask her, “Want to help me in planting it, Miss Adams?” he gave her a sweet smile.

Note: If you enjoy a book of comedy with light-hearted romance and a gothic background. This book is for you~

You are the ruler, I am a subject, you want loyalty, I’ll give you loyalty. You are the ruler, I am the subject, you want my sacrifice, I will sacrifice for you. This lifetime, we’ll only be ruler and subject…… cannot become the one who accompanies you to experience everything.

A deposed empress, a failure of a substitute. Charging into battle, he was the emperor, and she, his general. But within the intimacy of their military tent, he was her husband, and she, his wife.

But everything was star-crossed. For the one he loved the most, he would push her into hell again and again.

- Description from Novelupdates

Suo Fei, a veteran NEET has spent three days and three nights strategizing his way through the highly explicit H danmei game masterpiece “Yalance”. Furthermore, he was able to capture all nine little shous from the nine great races. However, as the final, 10P feast was approaching, he unexpectedly transmigrated. He transmigrated into the real country of Yalance…

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.