Love And Hate Novel Novels & Stories

“I hate him. I should hate him. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Her hands did not stop their calming movement. “Hate is a fire that consumes first the one who carries it, meine Liebe (my love),” she said, pausing. “And what sometimes seems like hate… isn’t. Sometimes it’s just a pain so deep it doesn’t know how to scream its own name.” I opened my eyes and looked at the ridiculous necklace in the velvet box. The diamond heart sparkled under the light, a grotesque symbol of everything false in my life.

Just the overwhelming sensation of him—his warmth, the pressure of the kiss, the faint taste of something metallic, like we were both carrying too much of our shared past into this moment. Then everything snapped back into focus. Anger flared hot in my chest, mingling with a tidal wave of confusion and something I didn’t want to name. I could feel it in the way he kissed me—how it wasn’t about softness or affection. It was raw, bruising, a collision of emotions neither of us could name. This wasn’t love. It wasn’t even lust. This was hate, spilling out in the most chaotic, desperate form it could take. Because this is what we have. Hate. Boiling, unstoppable hate for each other that made a n

He avoided people and remained silent, much to the puzzlement of the good, simple village people around the church, going about the tasks with downcast eyes and a shuttered expression. But the fire in his heart raged on. " I will avenge you, Dmitri and Dusak..." he thought bitterly. " I swear that I will..." He stared across the snow-laden fields, his hate burning in his heart. Someday, soon. *** Note from the Author: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for bearing with me and staying with my star-crossed lovers, Lucien Delano and Proserpina . They have been in my head for more than five years.

And yet—gods help me—I could not stop it. “I hate you,” I whispered finally, the words escaping broken, raw, ripped from the deepest part of me. My chest ached with the force of them. My eyes burned. “I… I hate that I… want… you.” Silence fell. Heavy. Absolute. Then his smile came—slow, dark, devastating. A shadow curling across his lips, consuming and inevitable. “Good,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous, tasting like sin. “Hate is honest. Desire is honest. And tonight, you will face both.”

“Is that your brother? I think he’s your lover. “I see. You’re my husband’s mistress, and you’re using his money to keep a lover, right?” Alarm bells rang in my head. Yelena then said with a cruel smile, “Bring the can of gasoline. I’ve eaten every delicacy, but I’ve never tasted roasted human meat. “Why don’t I let your lover taste your flesh?” Hunter dragged himself along the floor and spoke in a rough voice. “Don’t you dare! If anything happens to Wendy, I’ll make you suffer a fate worse than death! Don’t count on Jacob to save you!”

The thought of finally discovering whether my childhood crush could blossom into true love kept my spirits high, fueling my belief in the magic of fate. As the years rolled by, I blossomed into an attractive and bright young woman, full of ambition and dreams. However, with each passing year, it seemed that my increasing beauty and intellect only deepened the resentment my mother and younger sister felt toward me. It was as if my very presence was a constant reminder of everything they wished to forget, and I began to sense a profound animosity brewing beneath the surface. My mother, once a nurturing figure, now regarded me with a cold disdain that was impossible to ignore. Every glance she

She still looks at me like she wants to kill me. And that single look sends a raw, electric jolt straight through my veins, hotter than the aged whiskey still burning on my tongue. Fifteen years of poison and unresolved war ignite between us in one searing second. Her hazel eyes burn with pure, unfiltered hatred, her full red lips pressed into a thin, furious line. My pulse thunders in my ears. My cock twitches hard against the confines of my tuxedo pants, already half-hard from nothing more than her glare.

He grabbed me by the collar and pushed my back against the wall, his forearm pressed tightly against my throat. His nose flared, eyes red, face dark in a way I've never seen before. I could even feel killing intent from him. “Ronan Devereaux, I underestimated how despicable you could get.” He spat, eyes blazing. For some reason, seeing the passionate hate in his eyes and his barely restrained desire to kill me, my heart began to race. I wanted to wrap his arms around my neck and give him the knife myself. Perhaps, the tightness in his chest that made his breathing erratic would be no more.

Why does it hurt like it always do? He knew he hate her but also love her, he miss her when she was not around and feel angry when he sees her, he had been thinking of a name to give his feelings for her but now, he has finally gotten it, he loves and hate her and their marriage was nothing but a LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP. End of book one.

What is going to win love or hate? this book contains CEO Romance, love, family, friendship, violence and mature content read at your own risk