Reborn And Remade: The Exiled Matriarch

ony drove straight t

er lungs pulling in air that tasted like copper and wet mol

vision swam. A violent migraine pulsed be

vival instinct-honed by years in the apocalypse-kicked in

ing wound on her bicep. A sharp

one room, that tiny intake of

of metal chains echoed from t

into focus. She locked her ey

uldered figure was h

consort, Al

erlapping whip scars that covered his bar

e sight, a bomb of foreign me

: females were the rulers. Women were born with a rare spiritual power, a force that could soothe the violent rampages that plagued every beast-man. Because females were outnumbered a hundred to one, they were not merely valued-they were worshipped. A single female was entitled to take multiple males as her c

a servant. He was one of her bound mates. So were the others-four more consorts whose faces flickered through the stolen memories, each one bearing the marks of her sadism. The whipp

ana's stomach heave. She let out a lo

e body began to shake. Violent, uncontrol

shrank back. His broad shoulders slam

symbol of their marriage contract-pulsed with a faint

gust and despair burning in his ice-cold eyes

st. She had transmigrated into the body of a notorious,

eprint for survival. In this world, a female's power-her safety, her status, her ability to command resources-was directly tied to her mates. A lone female, disgraced and exiled, was prey. The Wilderlands would devour her in days. Her consorts, broken as they were, were not just victims to be pitied. They were warriors. Their beast-man strength, their knowledge of this br

ith sandpaper. Kiana tried to speak

n, raspy sou

dy locking up as if preparing for the first strike of the whip. He bit down on his pa

. As a survivor from a modern world, the sight

her limbs. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her ri

he kept her voice flat, calm, and

more," she said. "Go

n the damp air o

is icy eyes widened, starin