Passionate Hate Romane & Geschichten

When finally, he spoke, the only word that left his lips was “why?” “Why?” she repeated, as if he had asked a totally ridiculous question. “Why do people frame people up and force them into marriage they don’t want and torture them? Let’s see” she said pretending to think. “How about because they hate them.” she answered, her sharp eyes suddenly becoming sharper with anger, it was amazing how she could transform from cool to hot in just an instant. “I hate you Mr Farhan, I hate every fibre of your stupid disgusting being, in fact, I hate you so much, that I don’t think anyone ever hated anybody as much as I hate you, I hate you more than I hate the devil,” she continued her anger rising with

She’s never been this easily pliable in all the years we’ve known each other, even if I have had a power over her since the day I arrived. My deep-rooted hatred for her and her family has always been the driving factor, but I never expected to enjoy this as much as I am. Perhaps it’s because hatred can be so fucking passionate and when I kiss her, it drives me wild like nothing ever has. When I kissed Natalya, it felt like she had set my entire soul on fire and it was burning me from the inside out.

A small smirk appeared on his lips and the emotions in his eyes weren't good. They might not be reflecting hatred or vengeance but what they had in them was more dangerous than that. Because when our most hateful thing becomes our need the outcome can never be fruitful. _____________________________________ Again I am saying don't forget to comment and like. Share your love and support for the book. Do remember hate can never turn into love just like that. It needs to go through a lot of phases before reaching the line of love. And sometimes person fails to cross those phases and never touch the line of love. So expect anything.

he murmurs, his voice low and cutting, “but don’t lie to yourself. Hate’s just fear dressed up with a little fire.” My fists clench above my head, but I don’t dare move. His palm feels like fire against my skin, his presence suffocating, a storm I can’t outrun. “Do you know what hate does to me?” he continues, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. “It fucking fuels me. Makes me sharper, crueler and gets my cock hard as fuck. Hate is a slippery slope. One minute, you hate me. The next? You’re fucking obsessed.”

That’s good for me. I don’t mean that in any noble sense, I mean it in calculus. People who hate are predictable. Hate simplifies motive; it sharpens action and dulls strategy. Where professionals plan three moves ahead, furious amateurs charge blind. They mistake heat for planning; they mistake impulse for courage. Cassandra’s hatred makes her an asset if I can steer it.

Kayla's pov Everybody clapped as Dante kissed me. I couldn't even smile. Not after what he whispered to me. Not after those cruel, bitter words sank deep into my chest like thorns. Tears slipped quietly down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them off, not wanting any to see me Break. I looked up at him. There was no love in his eyes. Just hatred. Cold, dark hatred. He hated me with every part of him. And deep down, I knew he was going show it. He was going to be cruel. He meant every word he said.

I made sure to lock the door, then leaned against it and focused on catching my breath. I was having a sort of panic attack. Why was there so much pressure in my chest? Why was my stomach burning? I was sweating all over, too. Then, there was the matter of my arousal. How could someone hate a man but want him so desperately? Was this the thin line everyone talked about? Between hate and lust? Was it so much hatred I felt for him that I shifted to the lust side a little bit? Was this similar to feeling horny at the sight of a medieval torture device? Being so repulsed that it led to arousal?

he smirked. "You want me to fall in love with you? You are so stupid for my liking. Did you think I will even look at or fuck with your shadow?" "Wait! What is love? There's nothing like love. I might have said I love Brielle, but the truth is that... I don't love her. I like her; we grew up together. She knows a lot about me. I watched her suffer along with my mom for being a woman. I need her back because of my daughter, and I want to get her back because of Alan. Alan always wants everything I have, and I hate giving it to him. I can't even love someone; I only like. But when it comes to you, I hate you with passion. I hate you; my veins, brain, and all of my senses hate you. You make my

If looks could kill then I wouldn’t be dead here right now. “I DO NOT put up with disrespect from anyone. Your title, given by contract, as my mate,” his lips peeled back in disgust, “doesn’t make you any different than the rest. I have no qualms with punishing you until you get that lesson through your thick fucking skull. It’s a lesson that you might want to learn before you’re cuffed to a pole, becoming intimately familiar with just how painful it is to be whipped with silver and wolfsbane. Maybe that’ll drive the lesson through your thick fucking skull. And don’t delude yourself with fantasies about your coward of a mother. She turned on her pack. She got people killed. And I will not al

Zay’s POV I never thought I’d feel this way. Not after all the years I spent pushing her away, tormenting her just to mask what I really felt. But standing there, watching that guy—Ryan—smiling like he owned the room when he looked at Vee, something inside me snapped. It was like my entire body shifted, my skin heating up, my fists clenching before I even realized what was happening. That wasn’t jealousy. It was something darker, sharper—a fierce, possessive fire that I couldn’t control.