The Hated (Sleeping With Monsters Book 3)

by Cassie Alexander

  The way we were seated negated our difference in heights. I could see deep into his eyes, watch each sensation I gave him as it crossed his face, feel his breath on my lips. His free hand held my back, pressing me to him, and my hands were on his shoulders holding on.

  He rocked me back then, and brought his mouth to my left breast, licking the margins of its curve, rolling my nipple against his tongue. I watched him, jaw dropped, breathing hard and pulsing, always pulsing -- I didn’t want anything to change ever, I wanted to be in this moment for the rest of my life. He nuzzled his face against me and turned his attention to my other breast, biting it a little harder, as if warning me. And then his hand pushed up into my hair and he brought me close, pulling my head gently to one side. I knew what was coming and knowing that made me ecstatically tense – I’d never felt so alive as I did that very moment, pushed to the brink of release and then dancing on its fine line.

  “Ilylle,” he whispered, and then sank his mouth against me, his lips finding my neck, me braced against his cock as his teeth went in.

  I was still and made small noises then, feeling the sharpness of his teeth and the wet heat of his tongue. It hurt but it felt holy – I was sharing my essence with him. I kept gasping each time his mouth sucked and I knew my blood was thick inside his mouth -- the same way his cock was thick inside of me. My hips started moving on their own. He growled without releasing me, biting harder as I desperately rubbed against his thumb.

  I wound my hands in his hair, holding him tight and he made another growling sound. Both his hands found my hips and he braced his back against the throne and started fucking me, raising me up, pinned on him, thrusting fast. I cried out and held on, rubbing myself against him bodily, my breasts against his chest, his hands clawed around my ass, feeling every piece of his cock thrust inside, my magic winding around both of us like a hand --

  “Zaan –“ I cried out his name as my breath hitched and my magic pulled. Everything went silent and pure – there was no throne beneath us, no walls around, we were surrounded by a shimmering brilliant ball of light.

  And then I cried out his name again and reality returned. “Zaan!”

  I shuddered over him, my whole body wracked with electric sensations, as he kept thrusting wildly into me, until he released my neck to call my name.

  “Ilylle,” he groaned, pulling me near and pushing himself deep. His cock stirred inside me and he thrust again – “Yes – Ilylle –“ and then he gasped, rocking his head back, and gasped again. “Oh, Ilylle –“ he panted, his chest heaving beneath my hands.

  He held me to him, surrounding me with his arms, pulling me close. I could smell the sweat of his exertion – so unlike Joshan – and feel the wetness of his seed leaking out from between our bond. “Oh, my Queen,” he whispered in my ear.

  “My King,” I whispered back, kissing his chin and neck.

  Zaan’s Epilogue

  I pulled her out of the chamber where I’d been trapped as stone, away from her memories and Yzin. We needed to break new ground, start somewhere fresh that was only ours – so I pulled her past the hall we’d fought in and beyond her great chamber’s door, down to the reception hall.

  Every footstep made me throb – I had a low ache that needed answering. After nearly being pulled apart in Railan’s dungeon I felt starved -- and all of me needed to feed.

  When we reached the center of the room I turned and caught her smiling at me. Little did she know the things I wanted to do to her.

  “So what now?” she asked, acting bold.

  I smiled wickedly. “In five hours you’ll belong to Aranda -- but until then, you belong to me.”

  I felt her magic ripple through her, answering mine.

  “Here?” she asked.

  “Here,” I said, prepared to take her.

  My arms wrapped around her as my head leaned down. Her lips parted and let my tongue in – we were tasting one another in an instant, touching one another in an instant more, both of us wanting to finally know the other. I grabbed hold of the fabric of her dress and tore it as her hands fluttered over the buckles of my armor, undoing them haphazardly. Her hands found my skin as my hands found hers – the curve of her hips, the swell of her ass, always our mouths locked, tongues pressing. She put her hands in my hair and shivered against me as we freed ourselves from the final bits of cloth and I could feel her nipples pebble as they touched and feel the softness of her mound press in – my cock stiffened, and she reached between us to stroke it. I picked her up and started moving us toward a wall, but her magic fought mine to keep me still.

  “Ilylle –“ I warned – she couldn’t possibly know how much I needed her right now, how badly I needed her blood to satisfy me and more -- and then she knelt.

  I groaned as her lips parted and she took me in. Without thinking I started to sway in time, rocking my hips against her as she sucked. My hands wound into her hair or clutched her shoulders, trying to hold on.

  “Ilylle,” I panted, looking down as she looked up, stroking her tongue against the bottom of my cock. I moaned again as she pulled back. I felt her rock, and tried in vain to keep her there.

  “I could torment you for hours now, and it would still be fair.”

  My hips swayed involuntarily. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “You don’t even know,” she warned me with a grin. I didn’t need games – I muttered a curse, then laughed, swooping down to pick her up.

  This time she didn’t fight me. I knew this time, she’d be mine.

  I carried her up the dais to where the throne was and set her down, arranging her how I liked – pushing her back down and her ass up as she stood before the throne. I stood there for a moment, admiring everything about her, the spill of her hair, the curve of her hips. I could take her now – or I could choose to worship her some.

  I took her ass in both my hands and felt her tremble and brace, assuming I would soon push in. Instead, I knelt behind her, pushed her thighs wide, and lapped at her with my tongue.

  The sound she made then – it was exquisite, half a gasp, half a groan, as my tongue worked her over, my face pressed in. I sucked on her and kissed her pussy deeply, pushing my tongue up. She kept moaning and rose up on her toes, bending further to show more of herself to me, no shame, no inhibition. Her eagerness drove me wild, and I licked harder, pressing more. Her legs started to shake and her magic wrapped around us – I groaned and pulled back, satisfied with what I’d done, and slapped her ass, hard.

  Ilylle jumped forward, then looked back. “What was that?”

  “A prelude to this,” I said, sliding myself inside of her.

  Her pussy fit my cock like a glove. She was so wet and hot and each time I thrust she held me tight – I wanted to be inside her, to stay inside her, to feel her always wrapped around me.

  Did she want the same for me? I pulled my cock back and teased her entrance with it, bobbing the thickest part of my head in and out. She groaned and tried to sink backwards to take more of me – yes – I leaned over her to grab the back of the throne and use it to help me fuck her. Each thrust she cried out – each thrust I needed her more. She was close, I was close, but there were parts of me hungry yet – I reached down and grabbed hold of her long blonde hair, hauling her up against my chest.

  “Do you feel taken now, my Queen?” I asked her.

  She nodded with a whimper.

  “Good,” I said, and then pulled out.

  She sagged without me there. “Not again, Zaan –“

  “Definitely not,” I promised her. I moved her to one side and sat, then brought her back in front of me. My cock was still hard, jutting out – I scooted my hips forward, and pulled her to me.

  She realized my intent and straddled the throne, thighs spread wide, and reached for the throne’s back to lift herself up and slowly lower herself down, as I reached between us to guide myself back inside her. I hissed as I felt her envelope me again, and licked my thumb, putting it between us for her to rub
on.

  She started pulsing up and down my shaft; I wanted to grab her shoulders and pin her there, keep myself buried deep, but watching the ecstatic concentration on her face as her pleasure roiled – I pulled her to me, wrapping all of me in her, skin against skin, feeling her rock up and down with a series of small thrusts, rubbing herself against me.

  She would come like this if I let her, and part of me wanted to watch that, to feel her magic wash over me as she utterly let go – but the rest of me was hungry still. I rocked her back, and lowered my mouth to her left breast.

  I knew how to be careful with my fangs if I wanted to be – I used my lips and tongue against her, searching, licking, feeling her nipple perk for me, begging me to suck it more. I devoured her carefully, there was no part of her breast that I didn’t taste, and then I turned my attention to her other one, trying to be as precise, but losing myself as my cock grew more hard, all of me knowing what would come next. Did she know? She had to – I brushed my teeth against her in warning, as she kept pulsing – the way she felt wound around my cock – if she came, I would too, and this moment would be lost. I pulled her close again and pushed a hand into her hair, pulling her head gently to one side, bringing my mouth to her neck.

  “Ilylle,” I whispered in warning, and then bit into her irresistible flesh.

  She stiffened as my teeth pierced and made small noises as I was lost in blood. I’d heard of this my entire life, how the blood of your beloved was like the sweetest wine, and had thought the men who shared such stories mad. But now – running my tongue over the wounds that I’d made, pressing and sucking every drop she would give me – I felt intoxicated. And then – she began to move.

  Her blood, hot in my mouth, and my cock, hot inside her, I growled in satisfaction, at how everything felt right. Her hands wound up into my hair to hold me at her neck as her hips began tightening.

  I pressed back into the throne, taking her with me, so that I could brace myself up off the ground, and started pounding all of me inside her, my hands clenched around her ass. This redoubling of sensation – the taste of blood – the way her body pressed to mine – the growing tightness in her pussy – her magic squeezing hard –

  “Zaan –“ she cried out my name first, losing herself. Her magic lashed out around us like a storm of light, with us calm in the center. She called my name again – and my body answered.

  I released my bite and thrust up into her tightness, as her pussy grabbed my cock and pulled – “Yes – Ilylle –“ I gasped and emptied myself inside her. Every pull she made drew more from me, until my body had no more to give – everything was hers. “Oh, Ilylle –“ I panted, and pulled her back to me. “My Queen,” I whispered, knowing it was true.

  “My King,” she whispered back and kissed my jaw.

  Epilogue

  We stayed in one another’s arms until we caught our breath and he slipped out of me. Getting off the throne was awkward – he helped me balance, then I stood naked in front of him, smiling down.

  “Don’t get used to that – it’s my throne.”

  Zaan chuckled, coming to a stand. “Don’t worry – you’re always welcome to sit on top of me,” he said, and then kissed me hard. I sank back when he was through, feeling warm. He changed to smoke for an instant – as did his clothing – and then he was assembled again.

  “That’s unfair.”

  “You’re the one who bathed already,” he said waving his hand about to indicate my magic, and I laughed.

  “Why here, Zaan? Why not my bed?” I asked, bending over to sweep up what was left of my dress. He watched all of me as I moved, eyes bright.

  “I wanted you to claim this place as yours before emissaries arrive at dawn.”

  “There is no part of Aranda that is not mine,” I said, with heavy irony, coming near. He held his hand out to me and I took it.

  “Soon all of it will be honestly, for as long as you desire. But I thought making new memories here, to replace the old, would be a good choice.”

  I smiled up at him. “You make an excellent King.”

  He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.

  I spun around, looking at all the screens. Soon I wouldn’t need them anymore – I would be able see the entire outside world – I would meet my people, and my people would meet me. I would know if Mazaria still starved, and be in charge of fixing it if they did – and if all of Yzin’s screens had told the truth, there was so much corruption and evil to uproot and replace with something better – it might take another twenty-thousand years to fix what Railan had done. And there was still the matter of all the Zaibann other trapped in stone – was there a way to release them, safely?

  Zaan was right – this was my last night before I became Queen in earnest, when my country and my people would weigh on every waking thought. Which was finally as it should be, yes, but -- I looked up to him and felt my magic stir anew. I straightened my back and took on a regal appearance for a second, before giving him a wicked grin.

  “My King, how much time do we have left before morning?”

  His eyebrows rose and he smirked, reveling the tip of one fang. “Enough, my Queen, enough,” he said and pulled me in.

  From the Author

  Thank you so much for reading The Hated, the third book in my Sleeping with Monsters series. All of the books are standalone but bound by the common thread of women who love dangerous creatures.

  Reviews are an author’s lifeblood, so please consider leaving one. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative, on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

  Excerpts from The Haunted, an erotic ghost story, and The Hunted, an erotic werewolf thriller, follow. The House, a Come Find Your Fantasy adventure book, was my first erotica release if you’d like to go back and see where it all began.

  If you’d like to be notified about giveaways, appearances and new releases, please sign up for my mailing list here.

  Before Tales from The House or Sleeping with Monsters, I wrote the Edie Spence urban fantasy series, about a nurse working with supernatural creatures on a secret hospital floor. All five books of the series – Nightshifted, Moonshifted, Shapeshifted, Deadshifted, and Bloodshifted – are currently available on Amazon.com or through your local bookstore.

  If you’d like to follow me on social media, check out my website at www.cassiealexander.com, follow me on twitter at @CassieY4, or like my Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/CassieAlexanderAuthor.

  I hope you enjoyed The Hated!

  ~ Cassie

  Read on for excerpts of The Hunted, The Haunted, and The House, in case you missed any of them….

  The Hunted

  As a call girl, Samantha never hoped for a happily ever after until she met Vincent. It didn’t matter that he was a mobster, for seven years their life was perfect – then he was betrayed and brutally gunned down by other members of the family. Now she’s on the run for her life, and the only thing she has to remember Vincent by is a silver locket with the phone number of a stranger folded inside – that leads her straight into the arms of Vincent’s werewolf ex-boyfriend.

  In my dreams I could pretend the sounds I heard were fireworks or drums, not gunfire, but when I woke to Vincent shaking me I knew our life together was through.

  “Sammy, get up. Now.”

  I sat up instantly. The shots were closer, faster, matching the doubletime of my heart. The Carmino family was coming at last.

  Vincent shook me again. “Go,” he demanded, his eyes dark. He was beautiful and stern and muscles in his arms bunched, bracing for a fight. “Wake up. This is it. You remember what to do.”

  I stumbled up and out of bed and snatched my robe off a chair. “Okay –“ I ran for the bathroom, realized he wasn’t following me and turned. “I’m not going without you.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “But –“ This wasn’t how we’d run the drills. When we’d practiced them, we’d both escaped.

  “Things have escalated.” He stepp
ed onto the bed and then off of it again to reach my side. Why wasn’t he going for the guns? I knew we had them, under the mattress, and in the closets -- “They’re not going to let me live. And I don’t want to watch you die.” He took my shoulders in his hands and held so tight I knew I’d be bruised.

  “This is really it?” I asked, my voice small. I’d lost so much in my short life – I couldn’t imagine losing him, too.

  He didn’t answer me, just pulled me in for one last kiss, lips and teeth and tongue. I kissed him just as hard back. If this was good-bye, I wanted to take part of him with me, to always be able to put fingers to my lips and feel the piece of himself he’d left there. He pulled back before I was ready – I’d never be ready --

  “I love you. You know what to do. Go.”

  Leaving would mean never coming back – and knowing that Vincent was gone. Another round of gunshots neared.

  “Go!” he demanded, his gaze clouding. I could hear the fear creep into his voice – not for himself, but for me, that I’d get caught here with him. It was the only thing that made me run. I wasn’t afraid of dying – but I didn’t want to make his death any worse than it already would be.

  “I love you,” I whispered, and ran for the bathroom door.

  We’d practiced escaping, like elementary school kids practiced crazy-killer drills – talked about what we would do, how we would survive, where we’d meet up again in time. I never thought I’d be running alone though, without him – but he did. I looked under the bathroom sink, and there was only one backpack there. Goddamn him. I grabbed it and threw the ladder out the window where it would be hidden by the chimney and took the rungs on it two at a time. Halfway down I heard the shots get nearer, with shouting – and then everything stopped. I let go of the ladder without thinking and fell eight feet down, into a bush.

  Vincent was dead. I knew it. I clutched my hands into fists to keep from screaming, and gathered myself to run for the treeline.