Holding On to My Man - Chapter 9

In a distant future, Alexander wakes to a reality where his past is a fog and his consciousness inhabits a robot body. Faced with a fragmented memory and an uncertain future, he embarks on a quest for answers. Amidst the hum of his repair shop, where he scrapes by, he delves into the mystery of his transformation. As Alexander forges ahead, stitching together the threads of his identity, unexpected companions join his journey. Among them is a precocious girl whose presence sparks forgotten emotions, offering a glimpse of his lost humanity. Yet, in the shadows, lurk those drawn by his technological prowess, casting ominous shadows over his path. Caught between the pursuit of understanding and the threat of those who covet his abilities, Alexander confronts a pivotal question: will he succumb to adversity or emerge from the crucible stronger than before?

Within the Huang Realm, a world where the era of divinities has ended and the era of immortals is nearing its waning years, exists the Buzhou Immortal Sect. And within the Buzhou Immortal Sect on Jade Peak was a disciple of the sect, Xi Tianyi. He was of noble birth, the only child of the Sword Empress who reigned invincible.

But the truth was that Xi Tianyi, was originally an ordinary mortal from Earth who suddenly woke up one day as in another world filled with immortals and demons. Under heavy pressure, knowing that his life is at stake to whoever is strongest, Xi Tianyi quietly cultivates in hopes of one day fearing no one and discovering the circumstances of his transmigration. But…

«You bastard, you stole my fiance!» Said a former genius who had lost all his cultivation.

«Bastard, pay with your life for the death of my entire clan!» Said a cultivator with blood leaking from his hatred filled eyes.

«What the hell?! I’ve been cooped up cultivating quietly so why are you guys suddenly finding trouble with me?! Besides, I’m only ten!» Cried out Tianyi in disbelief.

«Fine, if you want to make me your cannon fodder, I’ll step on your corpses for my ascension!»

[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.