History Hates Lovers Novels & Stories

she and Heitor practically hate each other. - And they still say that lightning doesn't strike twice! - I rolled my eyes, nervous. And at the same time defiant, because I'd seen that movie before. Lavinia looked at me uncomprehendingly. - She agreed after I begged several times, but with a few conditions... and of course after Heitor swore he wouldn't lay a finger on her. Which would be very difficult. It felt like I was watching history repeat itself. A forced love, a feeling of hatred that would surely turn into a love story forever, it was just a matter of waiting.

Barbara My life was always meticulously planned out from the moment I understood what a mate was. I envisioned a future filled with happiness, love, and companionship. However, unlike many, my story didn't end with that fairytale ending. When I finally met my fated mate, it was an overwhelmingly blissful experience—something I had dreamed of for years. Yet, as the seasons changed and time went on, my happiness began to fade. My mate, once so deeply connected to me, eventually grew distant and no longer desired my presence. One day, he left everything behind—me and our two children—for someone else, abandoning the life we had built together and leaving me to pick up the pieces of a shattered

I've been in this fucking world I hate for 40 years and the only one who loves me is the one I hate the most. Only Lucian understands. He reads me like an ancient text, every line and nuance laid bare for him to decipher. He sees me for what I am - a broken, bitter shell of an average werewolf, trapped in a love-hate relationship with a creature he despises. His love for me is relentless, bordering on pathological. It mirrors a mother's unconditional affection, which only fuels my hatred further. That fucking idiot. Why can't he fight back? Why can't he run away from me, just once? Why can't he put an end to this grotesque dance we've been performing for years?

Her heels were clicking on the floor and it annoyed Jonathan so much as he wasn’t used to that sound and more importantly, he was trying to focus on the newspaper. With a determined resolve, Hazel locked eyes with him. “I will only believe that my husband is dead when I see his lifeless body in the mortuary. Until then, all this talk of a levirate contract and marrying you is ultimate bullshit!” Her voice wavered slightly, but her conviction was unwavering and she was snarling at him.

Words say she put a curse under it that said that only the chosen ones would see the secret passage and go through it to meet their lover. But why is this a curse, right? Well the problem here is .... Once you step through it and possibly find your mate, you're given two chances : You either take your mate and live like vampires for all the eternity or with you mate beside you find the cure and live like happy humans forever... And blah.. Blahh. Blahh. Stupid legends, not that I believe but my mom still thinks that this mate thing is real. And about the end of the story... The witch and the human... I'll tell it to you next time. " The keeping up with the Kardashians goes on".

I gloss over the details of our conversation at breakfast though. “I dunno, he’s just so confusing. It’s like, one minute, he hates me and the next minute he- he-” “Can’t keep his hands off of you?” She supplies. “Kind of, yeah,” I reply, blushing. “Well, Vi, you know what they say: there’s a thin line between love and hate.” I let out a chuckle and say, “That’s taking it a little far.” “Sure, whatever you say. So what are you going to do about it?”

They would simply kill him. The stereotypes about both our kinds had always been true, after all. Werewolves and vampires have hated each other for all of eternity and I don’t think anyone truly knows the real meaning why but the hatred runs so deep and has done for centuries. I know we could kill one another but we’ve never given our species the chance to mingle. We’ve always kept our distance and remained some what civil.

I felt like I caught him off guard for a moment as I continue, "and that's not it even in my nightmare you are calling me sweetheart. " "Sweetheart, it must be a coincidence-" I cut him off. "No, I thought the same but explain to me. How could it be a coincidence when before today I never met you but you are appearing in my dreams and how could you be that same guy who kidnapped me in real life?!" I tried my best to make him understand what I am saying. "If you want to make me your wife then that's at least I should know, No?" He stares at me, silently for a few moments, observing what I said before he spoke. "Would you believe if I say we both were lovers in the past life? and your parents

“Happy endings stick. Especially if there’s a kiss. Or five.” From across the fire, Alaric—unbothered by my maids’ quiet sniffles—lifted his tea cup with slow precision. His voice, low and steady: “It’s a tragedy dressed as romance. Wasteful. Foolish.” I raised a brow. “You don’t like it?” “I don’t enjoy stories where love loses,” he said simply, his eyes flicking up, bright and sharp beneath the shadows. “If you love someone, you hold on. War, memory loss, destiny—none of it should matter.”

“To love someone so much it feels like your own heart is beating outside your chest. To have to stand by and watch them live a lie with someone else. To know that every smile they give you is a stolen moment, a precious secret that could get you both killed.” As he had spoken, I had begun to fully understand that Hypatos’ love for Arete had never been simple adultery. It had been the defining tragedy of his life. It hadn’t just been an affair. It had been a life unlived, a love that had been denied and suppressed for decades, a wound that had never been allowed to heal. It had been the reason he was so broken, the source of the deep, abiding sadness that had clung to him like a shroud.