Then Hate Me Read Online Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Virgin Tags Authors: ,

Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)

He dared to steal my bride, so it's only fair I respond by kidnapping his innocent sister.

Only a monster with no morals would kidnap a woman from her brother's wedding…
Which was precisely what I've become, a monster bent on revenge.

After all, as the billionaire Marksen DuBois, renowned for being a jilted groom, my reputation and business were in tatters.
There was nothing more dangerous than a man possessing power, boundless resources, and a vendetta.

I would torment him with increasingly degrading photos of his precious sister as I held her captive and under my complete control.
She'd have no option but to yield to my every command if she wished to shield herself and her family from further disgrace.

She was just a captured pawn to be dominated, exploited, and discarded.
Yet the more ensnared we become in my twisted game of revenge, the more my suspicions grow.
As she fiercely counters my every move, I begin to question whether I'm the true pawn… ensnared by my queen.

New York's elite play a dangerous game of shadows, hiding scandalous truths and illicit desires behind their opulent masks. Step into this intoxicating world of dark romance, masterfully crafted by USAT Bestselling authors, Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley, now co-writing as the enigmatic Blake Hensley.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



My fingers flexed, itching for the moment when I would snatch Olivia from her blissful ignorance and make her family pay for their treachery.

I brushed a spiderweb aside and checked my watch, the seconds ticking down to the fateful moment I had spent months anticipating.

My heart pounded with vicious glee as I yanked on the wrists of my leather gloves, ready to seize what was mine.

After all the Manwarrings had taken from me, it was time for them to pay in blood.


The Manwarrings’ precious jewel.

Their weakness.

She was perfect.

Young, beautiful, and completely vulnerable.

Olivia had wandered between the trees ahead, her wispy red dress clinging to her slender curves as she admired a marble statue that created an interesting backdrop to the wedding venue.

So pure, so virginal … so utterly corrupt.

She would learn the price of her family’s sins soon enough.

I crept closer through the brush, my boots scarcely stirring a leaf.

She tilted her head to study the sculpture, exposing the pale column of her neck.

How I longed to wrap my hands around that throat and squeeze the life from her pampered body.

But no, I had other plans.

Plans that would destroy her wretched family from the inside out.

The distant sounds of laughter and music from the wedding reached my ears, a cruel reminder of the joy that was denied to me. My life had become an unending nightmare, and until the Manwarrings faced the same fate, I would find no peace.

As I watched Olivia wander further into the forest, I marveled at the stark contrast between her delicate beauty and the darkness that surrounded her.

She paused before an erotic sculpture, its sensual curves casting shadows that seemed to dance around her. Her eyes, wide with wonder, traced the intricate details of the artwork, oblivious to the danger that stalked her.

With each step she took, the celebration in the distance grew fainter, its warmth and protection receding like a dying flame. It was as if the forest itself conspired with me, swallowing her up and leaving her defenseless to my vengeance.

I followed her, my footsteps silent as a predator closing in on its prey.

The wedding music was nothing more than a distant echo now, replaced by the rustling leaves and Olivia’s ragged breathing.

I crept up behind her as she bent low for a closer look at the sculpture of the naked woman writhing in the final throes of ecstasy.

“Good evening, Ms. Manwarring,” I greeted her, my voice cold and unforgiving. “I do hope you’ve enjoyed your night ... for it’s about to take a rather unexpected turn.”

Olivia gasped and whirled around.



“What are you doing here?” I asked Marksen as he circled me, taking pictures with his vintage camera.

Without thinking, I angled my body, popping out my elbow with a hand on a hip, creating curves the camera lens would find more flattering.

I learned very early on to never let a camera find an unflattering angle, and the worst thing a person could do was to stand straight with their arms at their sides.

A straight line was the most unflattering shape for a woman’s body.

No matter how thin you were or how much spandex you had squeezing your organs and making your ribs ache, a straight line would make you look flat or, worse, fat.

For some reason, I didn’t want Marksen to see a bad picture of me, even if he was the one who took it.

“What do you mean?” he asked, circling me again while looking through the lens. “I’m here for the same reason you are. To celebrate your brother’s theft of what should have been mine.”

“Why do you care? He loves her. You don’t even know her, and you most certainly didn’t love her.”

Weaving a bit, I took another sip from the champagne flute I was holding. It was crisp and sweet. I may have been overindulging a little. It was a celebration, after all. If I wasn’t going to drink my fill here, then really, what was the point?

A strict diet of denial and hunger awaited me in the morning.

Tonight was about celebrating life and love, and I intended on doing just that, though maybe I should have celebrated the food before the drink.

“You can’t be that naïve,” Marksen practically spat. “I didn’t think any of the Manwarrings were capable of love.” The venom in his words made sirens go off in my head, but that couldn’t be right.

This was Marksen.

He was just upset, he would get over it.

“That isn’t true,” I argued, feeling defensive of my family name. Not that I knew firsthand, of course, but still, he didn’t need to know that.

“Sorry, princess. I should have clarified.”

His tone went back to calm and easygoing.

This was the Marksen I knew, and I relaxed again.

“Manwarring men love money and power. Manwarring women love… shoes and purses, I’m assuming.”

His easy, backhanded remark stung more than I was willing to let on.