Cassandra Cain X Reader Novels & Stories

...Cassandra POV... In all of my five-foot-four splendor and glory, I tower a table of six men. One of these men is my new playboy, Christian Caine. The very same one that not but a few minutes ago left me frustrated and hanging, once again. So this, this will be my payback to him

The rest of the day went by smoothly and soon, it was time to go home. Cassandra got home a few minutes because of a lot of traffic as it is always in the city of California. As soon as she got inside her home, she refused on the couch, picked up a glass of wine next to her and poured its contents into a nearby glass cup. With sharp eyes fixed on the large Tv set, Cassandra sipped her wine slowly with the hope of getting her perfect PA tomorrow, a PA she can rely on. One thing Cassandra knows that she will never do is to trust people and she hopes that her PA who will definitely be a woman must be stiff just like her with no sign of laziness running in her veins. The sound of her ringing pho

I didn’t move. My phone was still in my hand, Damien’s hand was still wrapped around mine in the dark, and the connection between us felt alive in the silence. None of that changed what I’d just read from Wren. The investor’s name is Cassian. I read the words again. And then again. They didn’t become less catastrophic no matter how many times I looked.

The saltwater drips from our faces from the waves lapping at us but we’re both too far gone to care. My hands are just fucking moving everywhere they can reach without any real destination in mind, one ruffling through his hair and the other sliding all over his back, shoulder, side, neck, and everywhere I can reach. I’ve never been more grateful for the darkness of nightfall than I am in this moment, and I’m an assassin who thrives in darkness so that’s saying something. I’d be a little embarrassed afterwards if some poor child had their innocence stolen by the sight of this heated exchange. But only afterwards because right now… I don’t care about anything at all except him and now. I begi

“Do you keep track?” Cassia bit her lower lip, looking for a suitable response. “I… I read it somewhere.” It was a lie. Dorian barked a laugh. “Since when do you read anything other than your smut? Besides, Kael makes a fortune off mystery. He doesn’t even do interviews and he makes the critics foam at the mouth.” Kael didn’t reply immediately, instead he reached for the breadbasket and slid it toward Cassia, his fingers brushing hers for a second too long. “I never knew you kept tabs, brother.”

CASSANDRA The whisper swells, each day a little more, like a dark tide rising in the heart of the damp walls that never recedes, crawling through the narrow corridors, hissing between the twisted bars, slipping into the breathless whispers of the cafeteria, until it saturates the very air, so that we no longer speak only of the princess who has fallen from her pedestal, but of me, Cassandra, the one who does not bend, the one already called the bite, the one who laughs when the blood spurts and pain becomes spectacle. And around me, without me calling for it, without me demanding it, a pack begins to weave, fiber by fiber, an unstable but growing circle, composed of women who approach with h

CASSANDRA The pulsing between my thighs just won’t go away. It’s been there since my lesson yesterday with Rhett, along with a tingling sensation like I’ve been transformed into a bubbling can of lemon seltzer. I press my legs together as I lounge on the green velvet chaise in my room. I’m reading a book Clarisse brought me from the outside world. It’s a romance novel entitledBuilt from Stoneabout a girl who goes hiking and gets caught in a storm, only to be rescued by a rough mountain man who takes her home to his cabin where…thingshappen.

Cassandra sighed, reaching out to brush off her tears with the back of her hand, realizing that she might have gone a bit too hard on someone like her, “I’m not your friend, not your lover and definitely not your girlfriend. Don’t ever rely on me or expect anything from me.” Selena rested her hands down on her laps, recalling the words that the cop has used when she first met her, “Are we…se-sex partners then?” Cassandra shook her head, “No. You don’t get a say in what we do. I decide the when, the where and the how. Any questions?”

Cassandra knows loving him is wrong. He’s older. Forbidden. Her mother’s husband. She was hired to take care of him. She never expected to crave him. George’s touch ruins her innocence, his kiss burns through her rules— and right when Cassandra finally gives in, a single threat from her mother returns to tear everything apart.

CHAPTER 24 Cassandra sat at her desk, her fingers flipping through a stack of files, her focus fixed on a chilling case: the death of Michael Foster. The more she read, the clearer the connection became between the case and Antonio Franches, her contract husband. Her brow furrowed as she jotted down key points, trying to piece together how Foster’s mysterious death might tie into Antonio’s vast empire. The air around her felt heavy, charged with both curiosity and unease.