Bought My Deadly Rival As A Pet

The apocalypse had already taken everything else, and now it had reduced my bitterest rival to an item on an auction block, locked inside a gilded cage.

I was just about to raise my paddle to buy him when the Oracle Feedthe psychic broadcast that streamed endlessly through the ocular implants of the Citadels eliteflashed across my vision.

[Is the side-chick actually psychotic? Hes the strongest Aether-class operative we have. Hes faking this whole helpless slave routine just so he can get close to the Golden Girl and be her devoted attack dog. Its their twisted foreplay. Why is this tragic extra trying to insert herself into the main plot?]

[Harper is so desperate for a man, its pathetic. When the Swarm breaches the walls next month and tears her into bloody confetti, shell totally deserve it.]

A violent shiver racked my spine. I immediately lowered my paddle.

"Never mind," I muttered. "I'm out."

A second later, the man in the cage lifted his head.

"I bid ten thousand Aether credits. I'll buy myself, and I am giving myself to her."

Kieran raised a heavy, chained arm. He pointed straight at me.

"Sold!" The auctioneer's gavel cracked like a gunshot. "Congratulations, Miss. This human male is now your exclusive property!"

The blood drained from my face. I shot up from my velvet seat. "I literally just said I didn't want him! How are you forcing a sale?"

The auctioneer offered an apologetic, oily smile. "Miss, the gavel has struck. The transaction is bound by Citadel law. Besides, you aren't paying a dime. The merchandise has volunteered to cover his own acquisition fee, begging for you to take ownership."

This was the subterranean black market of the Citadel, a lavish three-day event overflowing with illicit weaponry, rare defense tech, and stolen artifacts. I had been hoarding my Aether credits for three grueling years, intending to finally buy a weapon that wouldn't jam when I needed it most.

Instead, I found Kieran Cross on the auction block.

Under the harsh, blinding glare of the crystal chandeliers, his eyes locked onto mine.

While the audience was draped in silk and bespoke tailored suits, Kieran had been stripped of his tactical gear. He was locked in an iron cage, wearing nothing but dark grey combat trousers. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his waist lean, every muscle defined and coiled with a dangerous, predatory grace.

A heavy obsidian collar was locked around his throat. A delicate, degrading chain of spun gold connected the collar to the piercings at his chest.

He looked exactly like what he was meant to be tonight: a beautifully packaged plaything, waiting to be consumed.

My initial instinct to buy him had been born of pure, foolish pity.

I never expected Kieran to pay for his own subjugation, forcing himself into my life.

The Oracle Feed in my vision exploded into a blur of frantic text:

[Holy shit, what is happening?!]

[The plot says the male lead is supposed to use his cunning to sell himself to Camille! Hes the ultimate manipulative simphe even picked out that gold chest chain himself to appeal to her! Why is he suddenly throwing himself at the side-bitch?!]

[Harper is such trash, trash, trash. Can she stay away from him?! Collateral damage girls who try to play the main character always end up dead!!!]

[Whatever, buying him won't save her. During the Swarm invasion next month, hes going to shield Camille with his own body. Harpers going to get gutted by an Aberration. The biggest piece left of her wont be larger than a fingernail. Watch.]

A visceral, bloody image flashed through my mind with sickening clarity. I looked down at my own fingernail and violently shuddered.

The residual terror instantly morphed into irritation directed at Kieran.

"The auction house claimed you were drowning in debt and selling yourself to survive," I snapped, walking up to the cage. "Who exactly are you trying to fool with this pathetic act?"

Kieran froze. Those cold, narrow eyes of his slowly dropped to the floor.

He pressed his lips together, his voice a low, muffled rasp. "Harper. It's been a long time. I thought... at the very least, you might say hello."

I was fifteen the first time I met Kieran.

Back then, I was just trying to survive, taking on bottom-feeding mercenary jobs in the Scrap Wards. He was out there too, a lone wolf with a chip on his shoulder the size of a crater.

Somehow, we always ended up taking opposing contracts. Most days, we were bitter rivals, trading blows and insults in equal measure. It was only when one of us was bleeding out in an alley that wed begrudgingly drag the other to safety.

The last time I saw him, we had a screaming match that shook the rain-slicked streets.

"Can you have some damn standards about whose money you take, Kieran?!" I had yelled, my voice cracking. "Do you have any idea that your client is a complete psychopath? He tortures kids in the lower levels!"

I was so angry, the words spilled out like battery acid. "Or do you just enjoy being on someone's leash?!"

His face had gone deathly pale. He reached into his jacket and tossed a bloody, searing-hot Aether core onto the ground between us.

"I know exactly who he is," Kieran said, his voice dropping an octave. "That's why I took the job. To rip the core straight out of his chest."

He stepped into my space, every word a deliberate strike. "There is nothing I hate more in this miserable world than someone trying to put me on a leash."

I bit my lip, instantly suffocating on my own regret. But he didn't wait for an apology. His jaw was tight with fury as he turned and walked away into the smog.

The very next day, the elite Croft family discovered my latent abilities and pulled me out of the Scrap Wards. I never saw Kieran again. I never even got to say goodbye.

So, when the Feed told me that he would eventually abandon me to be ripped apart by monsters just to save another woman... it felt like a physical blow.

Did those years in the gutter mean nothing? Was there really no loyalty left between us?

Kieran stared at me through the bars of the cage for a long, heavy moment. His brow furrowed, casting a shadow over his face.

"Besides," he said quietly, the arrogance completely gone from his tone. "That was every last credit I had. My Aether core is shattered, Harper. I'm just a normal human now. I'll never be able to earn that kind of money again."

I thought of the frantic scrolling of the Feed. He's faking it.

"Bullshit," I breathed. "That's impossible."

Kieran lowered his eyes, his thick lashes casting long shadows. "You're a Healer class. You can check the core yourself."

Before I could protest, he reached through the iron bars, grabbed my hand, and pressed my palm flat against the thick, hard muscle of his chest.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

His heartbeat reverberated through his ribs, syncing violently with my own pulse. I took a shaky breath, carefully channeling a thread of my Aether energy, letting it slip through his skin to search for the radiant, burning core that should have been resting near his heart.

A second later, my eyes snapped wide open in horror.

It was gone. Not just damagedobliterated. Jagged, dead fragments were all that remained of the most powerful Aether core I had ever sensed. Anyone with a shattered core couldn't even conjure a spark, let alone fight.

Why was the Feed lying? What the hell had actually happened to him?

My mind reeled. As I hastily pulled my hand back, my finger caught on the delicate gold chain draped across his chest.

The chain went taut.

Kieran let out a sharp, breathless grunt. The skin around the piercings flushed a deep, angry red.

He looked up at me through his lashes, his expression adopting a bizarre, unsettling submissiveness. "That pinches," he whispered. "Could you take it off for me?"

My mouth moved faster than my brain. "Oh? Beg for it, then."

He didn't miss a beat. His gaze dropped, his voice a smooth, flat hum. "I'm begging you. Mistress."

Boom.

I felt my own heart slam against my ribs, a massive, deafening beat in my ears.

Kieran pressed his own hand over his chest, his voice muffled and thick. "The world has ended, Harper. Only the strong survive. Look at me. I'm just a fragile, broken man now. Easy prey for anyone."

He slowly lifted his eyes to mine. They were impossibly dark, an abyss of ink and gravity that threatened to pull me under.

"As long as you promise to keep me by your side," he said softly. "As long as you protect me, every second of every day..."

He leaned closer to the bars. "In return... I'll be your dog."

For several agonizing seconds, the Oracle Feed was as silent as a graveyard.

Then, it erupted.

[WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! The plot is completely derailed! I dont even recognize this story anymore!]

[Wait, I just pulled the Citadel databanks! The male lead took an SSS-rank mission a few days ago and actually DID suffer catastrophic damage to his core! And Harper is a rare Healer class. If he drains her healing energy dry, his core will regenerate!]

[Omg, that makes so much sense! Hes playing the long game. What a manipulative king.]

[Haha, let the side-bitch suffer the drain. Our Golden Girl Camille is too precious to go through that kind of pain anyway.]

My racing heart slowly began to decelerate.

A strange, acidic ache bled from my chest outward, seeping into my veins. And then, it solidified into something else entirely. Pure, unadulterated anger.

I stepped forward, gripping the heavy iron chain attached to his obsidian collar, yanking it upward to force him to look at me.

"I own you now," I said, my voice dangerously even. "Whether I want you cooking my meals and scrubbing my floors, or warming my bed as a late-night toy, you do exactly what I say. Understood?"

He nodded once.

A cruel, spiteful smile tipped the corner of my mouth. "Then let's start by putting you in something I like."

I signaled the auctioneer and gave a few clipped instructions. A moment later, he returned with a sealed garment bag.

"Keep the chest chain on," I ordered, staring Kieran dead in the eye. "I like it right where it is."

Kieran stared at the garment bag, a flicker of something volatile crossing his face before he smoothed it over. "Yes. Of course."

He took the bag and vanished into the dressing room.

The auction was still in full swing. Because Kieran had somehow transferred his own credits to my account to buy himself, I was treated like royalty. The manager practically bowed as he escorted me to a VIP viewing suite on the second floor.

I pushed the heavy oak door openand stopped dead. Someone was already sitting inside.

"Murphy," I said, blinking in surprise. "What a coincidence."

Murphys eyes lit up, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Little Harper. Its been what, two years?"

Like me, Murphy was a rare Healer class. He used to be contracted by the Croft family and was the closest thing I ever had to a mentor. He eventually got recruited by an elite combat squad and left the estate for good.

I smiled back, the tension in my shoulders easing. "You look exactly the same. You were the best combat medic the Citadel ever saw. If you hadn't insisted that your new squad captain saved your life, the Crofts never would have let you out of your contract."

Murphy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. When I first met my Captain, he was young, built like a tank, and had off-the-charts Aether abilities. I thought he was a rock-solid leader. Turns out, the guy is a terminal romantic. A complete idiot for love."

He leaned forward, looking utterly exasperated. "Do you want to know what this lunatic did recently?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"He came to me and said that women only feel protective over men who are broken. Then he actually asked me if there was a medical way to temporarily shatter his own Aether core so he could play the tragic victim and force the woman hes obsessed with to take him in."

Murphy let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "I don't even know how far this lovesick bastard is willing to take it. Honestly, if the girl he likes told him to put on a frilly little maid costume, he'd probably do it with a smile."

A very cold, very precise sense of dread pooled in my stomach. That plotline sounded entirely too familiar.

Click.

The heavy door to the VIP suite swung open.

Kieran walked in. He was wearing the humiliating pleasure-thrall outfit I had selected: a tight white velvet corset-vest, a ridiculous ruffled skirt that barely hit his mid-thigh, and an obsidian headband equipped with stylized cat ears. The gold chain peaked out from the plunging neckline, catching the chandelier light.

Kieran froze.

Murphy froze.

They stared at each other.