The Hated (Sleeping With Monsters Book 3)

by Cassie Alexander

  “How?” she asked, sounding fragile.

  In answer, I sank to kneeling in front of her. “This time I will not bite.”

  I started slowly, pushing her skirt up and pushing her knees wide. She fought me for a surprised second and then relented, her chest heaving as her breath came fast. She’d never known the kiss of a real man, one whose heat and magic could answer her own -- and I was on that precipice again, torn between building her up or tearing her apart.

  I decided to be gentle. A caged beast for a caged girl, yes.

  I held her thighs apart and ran my tongue over the smooth petals of her pussy, pressing and sucking at the top where they joined, waiting for her lips to swell like an unfurling flower and open for me.

  “Zaan –“ she whispered my name and lay back, giving herself over. I pressed my tongue in deeply, and tasted the honey that a real woman should have.

  I slid one hand up underneath her dress for her breast. She made a small moan and writhed as my fingers traced its curve and swirled closer to her nipple. I kept sucking at her, running my tongue over her most sensitive spot, and brought my other hand up, to press fingers into her.

  She cried out at this, and her hips started to bob. I moved with them as they did, following her with my hand and my mouth, pinching her nipple gently. Her magic was in her now, I could feel the swirling power of it, recharging what she’d lost – and I pulled back.

  “Zaan –“ she breathed my name again, looking down at me with half-lidded eyes.

  “Shhhh,” I told her.

  She gave me a questioning look, until I started licking her again.

  I waited as her magic swelled and her entire body needed to be released. I felt her pussy pull at my fingers, trying to hold them in, as her highest petal rolled fat against my tongue, and her nipple was so taut that she gasped every time I brushed it – then I pulled back again.

  “Zaan!” she begged sharply.

  “You have your magic. This is mine.”

  She made a pained sound, and lay back.

  I took her through three more rounds, times when her magic was crashing around me, clamoring for a release that only I could give. Honey spilled from her against my chin and her breath came in a series of unending moans, and her hands sought purchase against the cushions she lay on.

  “Zaan – please -- please –“ she begged as the next round rose. “My King, please –“ she said.

  And something in the way she said it broke me. I growled and buried my face in her, sucking her hard, hand clawing around her breast, and shoving my fingers deep inside her pussy. She started shouting incoherently out, writhing under my mouth, hips flailing against the couch’s soft cushions.

  “My King, my King,” she sobbed as her release wracked through her, and I felt the unchanneled swirl of her magic pass me by. We would have to find a way to harness it and aim it, until it became second nature to her. I tried to think of ways that we could do that, purposefully ignoring my painfully engorged cock until my erection subsided.

  She lay panting on her couch and took her time pulling her hand out of my hair, before scooting backward as though she were afraid to touch me.

  “Do you feel better?” I asked her, wiping my mouth with the back of one hand.

  “I do.”

  “Good.” I stood, in perfect control of myself again.

  “Thank you for that,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbows.

  “You’re welcome.” I took a seat beside her and faced her as she pushed her skirts back down. “Now tell me what happens in five days.”

  #

  He expected to have a normal conversation with me after that? For as much as he hated machines, he might as well have been one.

  I pushed myself to sitting. I did feel better now. Stronger. And neither Joshan nor Beza had ever stirred such need inside me. They were skilled, but he was adept – I hadn’t needed to give him a single command, he’d just known. He had read me like I was a book, and at the memories, I felt things flutter again inside.

  “Tide’s Day is five days away. The day when we were supposed to be married.”

  “I went to the traitor’s domicile and overheard her talking with someone else. She had an image of you, on one of your screens.”

  “Really?”

  “You were talking about helping people. They claimed it made you innocent.”

  Innocent I was. Not physically, maybe, but in all the other ways of the world.

  “And she said that not even the high councilman could speed up the sun.”

  “So we have until then?”

  “If they do not decide to kill you in the meantime.” He looked around the chamber. “I wish you slept in a place with doors.”

  “But you said yourself the palace is airtight.”

  “Almost airtight, or I could not escape.” He stood at this and began pacing. “The entire palace appears covered by a thick metal shell. They could bomb it – bombs are –“

  “I know what bombs are, I’ve read of them,” I said.

  “But there are so many tunnels here there’d be no guarantee you were dead. And poisonous gases – the volume they would have to pump in to kill you would be astounding. I put nothing past them, though.”

  “You don’t even know who they are.”

  “I will. I have to protect you.”

  “To save yourself.” I watched him.

  “Of course.” He turned toward me with a malevolent grin. “I’m the last living Zaibann in existence. I’m even more precious than you are.”

  I snorted, and fell back onto cushions and stared up at the shadows my bed’s posters cast on my ceiling. “But why would anyone want me dead? I never hurt anyone.”

  “That you know of. Who knows what they’ve been doing with the power that they’ve stolen?” He swung an arm at the dream cradle. “Did your screens tell you anything?”

  “It was another history. More in-fighting, more death. And then an odd segue into a children’s tale about a group of rebels trying to rescue a precious gem.”

  One of his eyebrows rose.

  “I know it sounds foolish, but he’s trying to tell us something. And the story didn’t have an ending. Every other screen he’s brought me so far has.” I didn’t want to show him the pages I’d written. I’d continued in the tone of the final child’s tale – I wasn’t done yet, but I thought Zaan would find the work I had done puerile. “He wanted to see me when I was done with it. I was going to call for him, tomorrow.”

  “That is good. Then I can follow him.”

  “But you won’t hurt him –“ I protested.

  “That depends entirely on him.” The look Zaan gave me then was frightening. “Eat food now, and rest. Your lessons will begin in earnest tonight,” he said, and left my chambers.

  I watched him go until he turned down the hall. Tomorrow was my one chance to prove Yzin trustworthy and all I had were a few handwritten pages to try to tell him that I knew I was the jewel -- and I wanted to be saved already.

  If I was wrong though, what would happen? Would I be springing some kind of trap? Would he shove me into the cradle and lock it until I never woke up again?

  But that was too easy. If they’d wanted to do that, they could have done it any day prior.

  I got up and paced, much as Zaan had. So what was the point of deceiving me every day, for three hundred years? Just to rob me of my powers?

  Up until now, I’d never had a way to regain them so fast. I stopped and closed my eyes, remembering Zaan’s mouth upon me, the things he’d done to me, the way he’d made me feel – I’d never felt such a build-up of power inside me before. I’d tried to tease myself, ordering Joshan to prolong things, but I had never been half as patient – or half as cruel. Where had he learned such things?

  Airelle.

  My ancestor who was in all ways better than me. Stronger, more beautiful, fiercer, more wise.

  How many times had her hips risen beneath his tongue? And how many times ha
d he mounted her to take his own release? I wanted him to push his cock inside me, I longed to feel my thighs slicked with his seed. But if he hadn’t wanted me today, when I begged for him, when would he? Was my weakness the only thing that made him kind?

  Would he ever see my strength?

  Would I?

  Beza appeared in the doorway with another tray of food. “My Queen,” she said, offering them to me.

  “Thank you, but no.” He’d told me to rest, but I couldn’t – I need to do something, to show myself and him -- I set the tray down and laced my fingers through Beza’s and pulled her down the hall.

  Chapter Ten

  To my trained warrior’s eye, the palace was as easy to attack as it was difficult to defend. I paced through the halls, looking for natural bottlenecks where obstacles could be placed to slow intruders down. There were some, but not enough.

  And what did I have to block them with? Couches, ancient art? I grimly imagined an army slashing through a flower display.

  That wasn’t even counting the machines. When I’d been entombed, Rix knowledge was fearsome enough. It’d advanced impossibly in the meantime.

  What would happen if I couldn’t channel Ilylle’s power in any meaningful way?

  Or what if I could, and they walked in with weapons that were modified cradles, draining her and pulling me apart?

  The alternative though was to give up. I’d already seemingly died once – I had no intention of coming so close to it again.

  I started searching for the tools I’d need to teach her.

  #

  When Beza was done dressing me and braiding up my hair, I admired myself in my mirror. The clothes I wore were variations on what I’d read, long dresses made from dark heavy fabrics, and my hair was adapted from ancient portraits that we’d both seen, piled high and pinned with sticks that ended in diamond stars. Last, but not least, the collar was directly from Zaan’s mouth. Its thick black leather fit me snugly from chin to chest.

  I looked powerful. Exactly like Queens in the ancient portraits did. Perhaps looking like Airelle was half the battle of becoming her? I prayed that it would be.

  I walked back to my chambers and sat down in front of my desk where my story waited for me. I would have to figure out an ending before tomorrow.

  “My Queen,” said a voice behind me, and I turned. Zaan stood in the hallway, holding a bag. His dark eyes flashed over me until his gaze settled on my collared neck. “Are you denying me blood, now?”

  “No. I just hoped this would make you more comfortable.” I plucked at one long burgundy sleeve.

  “What care you for my comfort?”

  “You are my King.”

  “In name alone. I was wed to Airelle, and that cannot be undone.”

  I closed my eyes. Clearly, my plan had been foolish -- “I do not seek to undo it –“

  “Do you want to learn or not?” he said, stepping past me. “Or is your life just a game?”

  I sat straighter. “I do want to learn. I have to, for myself and for my people.”

  “Good.” He pulled out an object I didn’t recognize out of his bag and set it on the desk. “I found this deep inside the palace. Let us begin.” He formally held his hand out to me. I took it and let him pull me to standing.

  We walked side by side for a moment and I felt like a Queen of old as he gestured me to the bed. I sat down on it primly, the tree-like posters arcing high overhead, listening as he spoke.

  “That,” he said, pointing to the thing he’d left behind, “is a candle. It’s meant to burn. They provided light, before those –“ he waved a hand at the lights overhead, and went on. “You’ve never been forced to refine your powers, they come out of you in an unruly wave. You need to learn to control them, to pinpoint where they go, and what they do.”

  I felt my eyebrows creep up my forehead. “You want me to create flame?”

  “I do.”

  “But…how?”

  His lips quirked up in a cruel smile. “I will show you. But first, take off that silly dress.”

  The dress was hard to take off without Beza, the fastens were high and tight, but I managed to reach them without ruining my hair and I chose not to take off the collar. The dress fell to the ground in a rush, leaving me standing naked inside its circle.

  He stepped up to me, still carrying his bag, and reached out, running his hand behind my neck and up into my hair, his fingers tangling into my braids, bringing me into the circle of his arms for a kiss.

  As his lips met mine, mine parted and let his tongue in. He leaned forward with the force of his kiss, his body pressing against mine, as his tongue owned my mouth – there was no other word. I fought against the onslaught of his intent and then released, softening beneath him, letting him hold and control me, from his kiss on downward.

  I had never felt wanted so deeply before – too bad it was all a lie to teach me lessons.

  When he pulled back a minute later I felt light, and he stayed so close that all I could see was him.

  “Ready for your teaching?” he asked softly, rumbling the words. I nodded, helpless.

  “Good.” He stepped back and overturned his bag. A spool of rope came tumbling out. He took up one end of this, and fastened it to my wrist. “Turn around,” he commanded. I did so, and then watched with innocent amazement as he tied the other end to one of the posters of my bed.

  He did the same thing on the other side, cutting off the extra rope with a serving knife. I fought against the ties lightly and found I couldn’t get free. “What are you doing?”

  “Preparing to teach you,” he said – and landed the first blow. I heard a whistle through the air and then felt a stinging thud on my ass.

  “Ow!” I leapt forward, trapped by my tethered arms. “What was that –“ I twisted, looking over my shoulder to see. He held something – it looked like a whip, like a lot of whips at once.

  “I spent today being busy,” he said, stroking where he’d just hit. “Your palace didn’t have what I needed, so I made accommodations.”

  “But – why are you hitting me?”

  I heard him take a step back. “To teach you to focus,” he said, with a smack. “To teach you to listen,” he said with another one. “To teach you control,” he said, and hit me with a third.

  I yelped and gasped with each blow’s landing. “But –“

  “Be quiet,” he said, hitting me again. “Is the pain intolerable? Be honest.”

  I was breathing faster. I’d never been trapped before – in my own palace, no less – and they did hurt, but…I could take more. “No.”

  “Good. Let me know if it becomes so. Until then, though,” he said, landing the next blow atop a shoulder blade.

  Each blow landing burned and stung with a sudden wave of pain that disappeared as quickly as it’d come. I had to separate the surprise of being hit with the actual pain of the blow – once I began to expect blows, getting hit was easier, if still frustrating.

  “How is this supposed to –“

  He smacked across my ass again and I rose on my toes with a shout. My eyes stung, watering, and I hovered, as if trying to get away from him.

  “You were saying?” he asked, stepping forward to run his hand over me. My whole body trembled at his touch, frightened there might be more – and perversely frightened that there might not.

  “That hurt,” I said, when I could breathe.

  “I know.” Zaan’s hand traced the contours of my ass again. “It is supposed to.”

  He stepped back and then blows rained down on me, one after another after another. Across my back, down my back, across my ass, across my thighs – I didn’t know what to expect, only that I needed to expect, that there was no escape from what surely was this madman behind me. I cried out and shuddered, twisting this way and that, rising high up on my toes, my whole body looking for a way out involuntarily.

  Then the blows stopped and he leaned forward to growl in my ear. “Stop moving.”


  “Why?”

  “Because you need to learn to ride the pain. Right now, the pain is riding you.” He snapped whatever he held behind me and I jumped. He snorted in disgust. “How can you be the Queen of a people if you cannot rule yourself?”

  “I am a Queen,” I said through gritted teeth. He reached underneath one arm to cup my left breast in his palm. I trembled at his touch, and then slowly sank back down into my heels, relaxing my body though my entire back and ass stung.

  A second of comfort later, and his thumb and forefinger found my nipple and began to pinch it, hard. I didn’t realize how hard – compared to the rest of my body, it didn’t hurt – and then it did, oh how it did, it was like being burned. I grit my teeth harder and my hands clenched into fists, but I didn’t cry out or move.

  When he released me, I sagged forward, making a silent scream as blood rushed back in and different nerves sung.

  When I could breathe again, I stood straight. It had hurt, yes, but I’d survived. Me, who lived in this palace full of gilt and cushions, who wasn’t accustomed to pain. I swallowed and looked over my shoulder at him in pride.

  “I will not give you the satisfaction of breaking me.”

  Zaan stepped forward, his entire body pressed against mine, making all the parts of it he’d whipped sting – he rubbed against me on purpose, and I could feel the jutting stiffness of his cock.

  “Don’t worry about me, my Queen. I will be taking my satisfaction in other ways.”

  Then he stepped back, and the blows began again.

  It was as it had been when I was on the couch before him, with his mouth on the darkness between my thighs. Whereas then he’d made me ride waves of pleasure, now he made me ride waves of pain, seeing how much I could take, pushing me again and again almost to my breaking point.

  My pride stopped me from crying out again – but my pride couldn’t keep me still, as my body wisely tried to escape the pain, and Zaan stopped.

  “Do you hate me?” he asked.

  I sunk down, hanging from my arms, feeling all my blood rush inside. “I do.”

  “Good. Hate and power live side-by-side. Burn the candle.”