Page 506 of Hate Mates

Blood and Scales by YD La Mar

In a world where power is everything, Nádia Nogueira has been trapped by the very empire her father built. As new alliances arise, Nádia finds herself caught in a dangerous game of manipulation, betrayal, and bloodshed.

Arranged to be married to the ruthless heir of the Medeiros family to solidify power, Nádia’s world is thrown into chaos. Benicio Medeiros is a tyrant who plans to exact his marital rights over his new property with a heavy hand.

Romy, the bitter enemy and rival from her father’s house—a man she once viewed as an obstacle, now stands as a dangerous, relentless force against her. Their past is fraught with hatred, but as the world they know crumbles, their rivalry may become the very thing that threatens her survival.

Chapter One

NÁDIA

Swirling my tongue around his solid flesh, my head descended again before coming back up. With each suck, I savored his taste, relishing in the sounds of his groans as he thrust into my face again. I let him get lost in his haze of lust, delighting in the way he surrendered his power to me. A light sheen of sweat forms between us from our combined body heat, but it doesn’t stop me from continuing to glide my mouth down his cock and up again.

“What are you doing to me?”he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face as if utterly confused as to how he ended up here.

Romauld “Romy”Naifeh had been my father’s caporegime since I could remember. His dark, chiseled features commonly found in the Mediterranean were delicious, as well as his Egyptian heritage. The man always found their way toward my bedroom, whether it be walking by or telling the men by the door updates on his orders.

Here in this gilded cage,I was surrounded by suits and elegant gowns, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and whispered conversations. Neatly styled hair, perfectly pressed clothes, and wrist cuffs of both kinds—one to keep me in line, the other a symbol of my status. Where everyone could look, but not touch. I was nothing more than a prized pony on display, paraded around like a possession for everyone to admire, to judge, and to envy. No one saw the cage, though. To them, I was a picture of perfection, but inside, I was slowly suffocating under the weight of it all.

Father tried to keep me innocent, he really did. But he had no idea how stubborn a girl could be. Mother, on the other hand, was just another pretty thing to be kept while she was alive—nothing more than a trophy to be moved from place to place, admired and discarded. I couldn't let myself fall into the same trap. The thought of becoming just another object to be shown off, another lifeless decoration, filled me with disgust. I refused to be caged like her, to fade into nothing but a silent, perfect image for others to gawk at. I had more to offer, and I wasn’t going to let anyone keep me from proving it.

He threaded his fingers through my hair and firmly gripped the back of my head, the cadence of his thrusts losing its steady rhythm. Between our countless trysts, I had memorized all his patterns—I knew exactly how to push him to the edge of insanity and slow down until his frustration boiled over to sweet anger.

He was close. The strained moan followed by my next suck made his head fall back and his hand fall from my hair, digging his fingers into the edge of my bed. His groans turned into growls as I sank my teeth into his flesh, the taste of both copper and cum filling my mouth deliciously.

“You bitch!”

I moan around his cock, licking up the rest of his release, his shaft pulsing over my tongue with mutual satisfaction. He triedto push me away but I dug my nails into his abs, scoring his skin with red welts, marking another hate fuck between us. Despite his age of forty-five, the man had a body of steel.

With an aggressive grip, he pulled my face away and tossed me to the floor as I rolled to my side, laughing at his pained but carnal expression. Oh, I knew Romy well. He lived for these moments where he could hate me, where he used whatever excuse that brewed in his mind to punish me for my misdeeds.

“Who's the asshole that came to my room to begin with, Romy? It’s not like I invited you over,” I taunted, licking my lips seductively.

He tripped as he stood up, forgetting his pants were still around his ankles and I laughed again before getting to my own feet and dusting myself off.

“Better get yourself together, Romy. Daddy’s soldiers are going to make their rounds soon,” I wink, smoothing down my clothes before leaving him with his pants down as I lock myself behind my restroom door.

The ladies of the house had played this game for so long, the men were oblivious to the delicate dance we wove. The art of the tease—a whisper, a glance, a slow turn of the wrist—so subtle, so precise, they didn’t know they were caught in our web until they were too far gone to want to escape. Seduction, fornication, and sometimes…elimination.

The last part was added by me, but they gave me no choice.

It wasthe only way to break away from the inner storm that threatened to consume me with each waking breath in this beautifully wretched place.

The door creaked open, its sound lingering in the stillness of my bedroom. The men’s voices filled the air, discussing strategies for the upcoming event my father was hosting—somepolitical charade masked as a treaty with one of the warring families. I couldn’t help but grow weary of their constant scheming, every word and gesture a calculated move, each one a subtle attempt to outmaneuver the other.

Fixing my hair one last time, I stepped out of the bathroom as if I was caught by surprise to see them there.

“Doesn’tmy father have meeting rooms for these kinds of discussions?” I snapped, my voice tinged with unveiled annoyance.

All their eyes shifted to me, the room growing tense in an instant—except for Romy, whose back stiffened.

"Move three from the south end to accompany the Boss when the guests start arriving. The rest will switch shifts." His voice was smooth, controlled, despite the tic that pulsed at his temple like a warning. "Call in Omar and Ismael. We need everything in place for the meeting. This isn’t the time for mistakes."

He spoke with authority, but I could feel the undercurrent of something else—something dark. Romy hated me, that much was clear. His every move was laced with disgust, and every glance he threw my way felt like a blade buried deep in my skin. In front of the men, he played the part of the loyal soldier, but the animosity between us was palpable, thick enough to choke on.

I honestly didn’t know when it started. One day, I never existed in his world other than a mere ward, and the next, it was like there was a silent war brewing in the air between us. But deep down, something whispered that it began the moment I hit puberty—the moment some of the men under him, those who once saw me as nothing more than the Boss’s daughter, started looking my way. It wasn’t just the passing glances or the subtle gestures; it was the shift in their eyes when they looked atme. And Romy? He didn’t like that one bit. The insubordination stung his ego, twisting it into something darker—an arrogant tyrant, ready to lash out at anyone who dared defy him.

I let the silence stretch, my gaze unwavering, waiting for the tension in the room to break. But even as the men began nodding in response to Romy’s orders, I could feel it—his resentment simmering, ready to boil over just like earlier. It was only a matter of time before the crack in our fragile truce—if one could call it that—splintered.

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