Trapped as the Villainess, Claimed by a Werewolf

Liandra

“Her legs dripped with his seed—” I hit backspace. “...his fluid?”

“Fuck!”

I pushed away from my desk, sending my swivel chair spinning until it bumped against the wall. Seriously, fluid? Who the hell writes that in a romance novel?

Apparently, me. A romance novelist who couldn't even come up with a decent way to describe a man's... well, you know what.

Still, it paid my bills, so I couldn't exactly afford to quit.

It wasn't always like this, though. I used to love writing. Creating characters, building worlds, and making up stories where I got to decide how everything unfolded had once been what I enjoyed most.

But somewhere along the way, turning that passion into a career had taken the fun out of it. Deadlines, reader demands, and the constant pressure to keep producing something people would actually pay to read had slowly worn me down.

Now, writing felt less like something I loved and more like a job I couldn't afford to walk away from.

“I chose this. Deal with it,” I muttered, dragging my chair back to the desk.

My phone rang before I could type another word.

My editor's name flashed across the screen.

I answered with a sigh. “Please tell me you're not calling about the chapter.”

“I'm calling about the chapter.”

“Of course you are.”

“Liandra, the update is due tonight. How's it coming along?”

I glanced at the half-finished document on my screen. “Define coming along.”

“Please tell me you've written more than three paragraphs.”

“Four, actually.”

She went quiet.

“I'm kidding! I've written more than that. I'll send it before midnight.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“And today I'm saying it with more confidence.”

“Just finish the chapter, please. I don't want to explain another delay.”

“Fine. I'll get it done.”

“Thank you. And please, for the love of God, don't rewrite the entire thing five minutes before you send it.”

“No promises.”

She hung up after a quick laugh, leaving me alone with my unfinished chapter.

I stared at the screen.

“Back to suffering.”

Six hours later, my eyes were burning, my back hurt, and I was pretty sure I'd forgotten what fresh air felt like.

I'd barely moved from my desk except to grab my coffee, which had been sitting beside my keyboard for so long that it was practically cold enough to qualify as a different beverage.

I took a sip anyway and immediately regretted it.

“God, that's disgusting.”

I set the mug down and rubbed my eyes. Just a few more paragraphs, I told myself. Then I could finally call it a night.

I turned back to my screen, ready to pick up where I'd left off, when a notification popped up in the corner.

System Alert: Update Required for “Rejected by the Lycan King, I Rise on Top.”

I scratched my head, trying to remember what the hell that story was even about. “Didn't I finish this already?” I moved my mouse over the notification. “And why am I getting this now?”

I narrowed my eyes at the screen, ready to dismiss it, until I spotted the publishing platform's name in tiny print beneath the message.

With a shrug, I clicked the notification.

For a moment, nothing happened.

I blinked at the screen, waiting for the usual page to load. The little spinning icon appeared, but instead of disappearing after a second or two, it kept turning.

Then the screen flickered.

I frowned and leaned forward. The light from the monitor seemed to grow brighter, washing out the words on the screen until I could barely make out the title.

“What the—?”

White light flooded the room.

I threw an arm over my eyes, but it didn't help. The brightness seemed to come from everywhere, not just my monitor.

Then the room began to spin.

I grabbed the edge of my desk, my fingers tightening around it as I tried to keep myself upright. It felt like being trapped on a roller coaster that had lost its brakes, except I'd never agreed to get on the damn thing.

“Ahhh!”

Nausea rose in my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that whatever was happening would stop.

I gagged, my grip slipping from the edge of the desk.

And then everything went black.

Vanilla? And a hint of lavender?

Not that I actually knew what either of them smelled like.

I let out a sigh and tried to focus on my surroundings. Everything was blurry at first, and no matter how hard I squinted, I couldn't make out where I was.

The hospital, maybe?

Though, if I was in a hospital, shouldn't it smell like disinfectant instead of whatever fancy scent this was?

I blinked a few times, waiting for my vision to clear.

The first thing I made out was the ceiling above me, covered in intricate designs. I slowly looked around, taking in the silk sheets, heavy curtains, and gold trimmings.

What kind of room was this? It looked like something straight out of a royal palace.

“Ugh.” I clutched my head and forced myself to sit up. My temples throbbed, and I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. “Shit, what time is it?”

I turned toward the balcony, where sunlight streamed through the open curtains, but one look at the blinding morning sun had me turning away with a groan.

“Jesus. Who turned the sun up?”

Then I remembered something far more important.

“My laptop!”

I threw off the sheets and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet sank into the carpet, and I wiggled my toes, appreciating how ridiculously soft it felt. Nice carpet and all, but where the hell was my laptop?

Before I could think about it any further, the door opened.

“Lady Carmilla! You're awake!”

I turned toward the woman standing in the doorway. She wore a black-and-white maid's uniform and carried a silver tray.

“Is that water?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She set the tray down, and I immediately grabbed the glass and drank it in one gulp. God, I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. After setting the glass down, I looked at her again.

“Wait. What did you call me?”

“Lady Carmilla?” She paused, then seemed to remember something. “Right. I should inform your parents immediately.”

“Wai—!”

I couldn't even finish before she rushed out of the room, leaving me staring at the closed door.

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Where had I heard it before?

I shook my head and headed for the balcony, hoping to get a better idea of where I was. On my way there, I caught sight of a full-length mirror and slowed to a stop.

I glanced at my reflection. Same ginger hair, same green eyes, same face I'd seen in the mirror every day.

Then I remembered what the maid had called me.

Lady Carmilla?

What was that supposed to mean? Since when was I a lady?

I couldn't help laughing as I turned back toward the balcony. Once my eyes adjusted to the sunlight, I finally looked out.

And all I could say was, “What the fuck?!”