Cassandra Peterson Books Novels & Stories

There were hardly any valuable items in the apartment. In the past when Abigail earned some money, she bought Cassandra a big refrigerator worth over ten thousand dollars. After Cassandra moved to Florivera with Abigail, Harvey and his wife sold it. Now, the most abundant items in the apartment were books. Most of them were Cassandra's teaching materials for decades. Each of them had meticulous notes made by her. Whenever Abigail opened one of the exercise books, she immediately became engrossed. That was why although she had already spent a lot of time sorting out Cassandra's books, she still had not finished organizing even one bookshelf.

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

Chapter 14: Stacks and Sin Cassandra’s POV “Alexander, someone could walk down this aisle any second,” I whispered urgently, my back pressed against the tall library shelves in the dimly lit basement stacks. My short skirt was already bunched around my waist, panties dangling from one ankle. He didn’t care. His tall, athletic body pinned me there, one strong hand covering my mouth while the other shoved three thick fingers deep into my soaked pussy. His hazel-green eyes burned into mine in the low light.

Paranoia is an infection, and I’ve just nicked the artery. I opened the comms line. “Status on Cassandra?” “En route,” the operator responds. “Landing within the hour.” Good. Cassandra is a scalpel. Where Renner was chaos, Cassandra is order. Precise, unrelenting, meticulous. She doesn’t need to break people with violence—she breaks them with understanding. She finds the fractures already there and presses, gently, until they split. I hand picked her for this. “Prep the room,” I say. “Make sure it’s clean. I want her to feel welcomed.”

Adrian often stopped by the boutique, bringing coffee or food, watching her quietly as she sketched. “Rose, you need to rest,” he said one evening, setting two cups on her desk. She smiled faintly. “You know I can’t. I’m making up for lost time.” Adrian’s voice softened. “Just don’t lose yourself in the process.” Their eyes met — a moment of peace, yet shadowed by the unspoken fear that peace never lasted long. --- Elsewhere, the past refused to die. Inside the women’s prison, Cassandra sat on her metal bed, reading a freshly delivered letter. Her lips curved slightly — not in anger, but satisfaction.

m for updates on all my books! I hope you enjoyedreading as much as I enjoyed writing these characters! Until the next adventure! xoxo, Cassandra M ♡♡♡

Cassandra trailed off in fright, grief for her to think how hard it would be for her to be forced into a life she doesn’t want. “She had no choice. Then Sir Azen took her in, since then she’s in Red Rain.” Persephone ended, telling her Tabit’s backstory. “I understand now why her information is confidential…” Cassandra mumbled sadly, feeling compassion for her. “Hmm. But she is trying to gain emotions, thankfully.” Vera sighed, going closer to apologize to her and lift her mood. “That’s why, don’t mention anything triggering before her. She is emotionally fragile.” Persephone warned Cassandra who nodded quickly.

At first, she strongly objected to this because she wanted me to be one of her honored guest, but I insisted on serving as I wanted to make myself useful. My name is Cassandra and I am French. I come from a modest family, and I am 16 years old. I've been seeing a psychologist for 3 years because my parents think I'm abnormal. It's because I hate what most people like, and I like what other people hate. Most of the time I like to be alone, and it disturbs my family. This is how they entrusted me to the psychologist Morgane since I was 13 years old. Unfortunately, the three years of counseling I did with the psychologist Morgane did not improve anything in me. Despite this, my parents still th

An Ordinary Encounter Elena hadn’t planned to go out that afternoon. But Mateo had fallen asleep early, and the house felt too tense lately. Adrian had been careful too careful and she could feel the invisible weight of whatever he wasn’t saying. So she decided to leave for an hour. Just a bookstore. Coffee. Something normal. She didn’t take security. She told them she was meeting a friend. It wasn’t entirely a lie she just didn’t specify which friend. The bookstore café was calm. Soft music. Low conversations. Nothing dramatic.

I didn’t like the eerie feeling. “Alpha Kai…” Caska’s voice wasn't her own; it was layered, echoing like a chorus of spirits, almost like the moon goddess was speaking through her directly. Her eyes flickered back to life for a split second, landing directly on me in the shadows, before they went white again. The silence was absolute. You could hear the flicker of the torches on the walls. Kai stepped toward her, his powerful frame tense, his scent,cedar and storm clouds, filling the room.