Cursed desires loving mo.., p.1
Cursed Desires (Loving Monsters, #9), page 1
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2025 Faedra Rose
ISBN: 978-0-3695-1295-6
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: CA Clauson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. No AI Training permitted.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Cursed Desires (Loving Monsters, #9)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
DEDICATION
This series is dedicated to all my fellow spooks, to those who love the darkness and live for the excitement and thrill of Halloween! You are my people, and I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I did writing it. Stay spooky monster lovers!
CURSED DESIRES
Loving Monsters, 9
Faedra Rose
Copyright © 2025
Chapter One
The moon shines bright, bathing the secluded glade in its radiant and mystical luminescence. A chill breeze whispers through the ancient weeping willows and up my spine, carrying with it the fragrance of beautiful night-blooming moonflowers. Their perfume is subtle but sweet and fills my sacred circle with wild, feminine energy. My heart flutters along with the dancing flames of the old beeswax candles—each positioned at one of the five points of my magic pentacle.
Tonight, I’m summoning a companion. A familiar.
As a solo practitioner of the Craft and an alternative individual, I’m normally rather content in my solitude. I’ve never sought a coven or to practice with my sisters, but in recent times I’ve found myself languishing without company. I’ve tried dating my fair share of mortal men, but they are selfish and too modern. They don’t believe in the Old Ways and make a mockery of me.
So, in place of a friend or paramour, I’d love it if one of the wild forest spirits deigned to take the form of an owl, or a cat, maybe even a raven or rat—just another living creature with whom I could spend my time and build a lasting connection. Another soul to share my time and heart.
Standing at the center of my circle of salt, I raise the small silver bell I’ve brought for the summoning. “I am Mara Coleman and I call upon the spirits of the wild,” I say, ringing the bell once, its clean, high-pitched tone a clarion song in the quiet. “I have come in search of an animal companion with whom to share my home and heart.” I ring the bell again, following the ways of the ancient ritual. “I mean you well and will protect you from all harm.” I ring the bell a third and final time. “Join me in a partnership of your own free will and we will be bound forevermore. So mote it be.”
The candles of my magic circle flare high and strong before a strong gust of wind extinguishes them with a single midnight breath. Alone in the darkness, I smile to myself, content in the knowledge that I’ve been heard. Now, all that remains is to sit and await the fulfillment of my wish. Crossing my legs on the damp, leaf-strewn earth, I adjust my black skirts, relax my shoulders, and close my eyes with perfect trust. Now is the time for patience.
I can’t help but wonder what physical form my familiar will take. A smile-inducing mix of excitement and happiness bubbles within me and I send out a silent thank you to the spirits of All Hallows’ Eve for their acknowledgement of my heart’s desire.
I wait patiently as the minutes draw out, languishing and slowly ticking by into hours. Soon the moon has reached its zenith and begun to wane as the dark hours of the morning make their presence known. I feel the brisk chill of fall deep into my bones and my ass is uncomfortably wet, my skirt having wicked up the moisture in the earth. My heart does a little momentary flip flop of defeat, but I bolster myself and draw in a deep breath of chilly air. Don’t be like that, Mara, I chide myself. All things happen in their own time, and not always when we want them to. Magic is an arcane art, not an instant or exact science, after all.
Collecting my paraphernalia, I sling my purple velvet rucksack over my shoulder and use my boot to break the circle and disperse the salt among the colorful autumn leaves. “Merry meet and merry part,” I say aloud. “And Happy Halloween!” Turning on my heels, I begin the walk back through the shadowed woods and to my humble little cottage on the lonely outskirts of Salem. The Witch Trials might have driven out and persecuted most of the witches—but not all. Some members of the great families never left, and I am one of them. Of my kin, I alone chose to remain.
The oldest covens are gone now, the memories for them are far too painful and etched too deep to linger here. So, they have traveled far and wide, setting down roots across the country in search of serenity and new beginnings. The few witches I know in town are, like me, solitary, choosing to pay homage to our ancient traditions in peace. We respect one another’s beliefs and privacy, only venturing into each other’s lives seldomly, when the annual cycles and celebrations mean we’re foraging, or shopping at similar times. And that’s a part of what brought tonight’s nocturn activities to fruition. It’d be nice to not feel so alone...
Eddies of crisp, fallen leaves and fresh flower petals swirl and dance on the wind as I sigh and open my garden gate. The hinges protest and creak, adding to the spooky atmosphere of a night that already feels positively alive with magic. The element of air is mine and always grounds me, connecting me with esoteric energies always present, but forever unseen. Just as I turn to re-latch the gate behind me, a black shadow brushes by me, bounding up the steps to my red front door.
My eyes widen, my heart skips a beat, and my breath hitches in my throat as I walk slowly up my worn cobblestone path. Clear as day, a beautiful black cat sits on my wooden porch, its glossy fur boasting a breathtaking blue sheen beneath the moonlight. “Hello, there,” I say, squatting on the steps and offering out my hand, hovering patiently. “Are you here for me?” I ask. I can’t hide the quick grin that splits my face a moment later as the collarless feline nuzzles me affectionately. His magnificent golden yellow eyes regard me with a deep and uncanny wisdom and my soul sings.
It worked! One of the spirits of the wild has answered my call! I crow inside. I have a familiar! Finally. Giving the friendly cat another quick scratch behind the ears, I rise to my feet and unlock the front door, flicking on the light switch by the threshold. The black cat looks up at me as if awaiting permission before setting foot inside. “Go ahead and make yourself at home,” I invite. “We’ll catch a chill out here.” Closing the door behind me, I hang up my coat and slip out of my boots.
The cat walks around my living space, then jumps up onto my altar. He places himself squarely at the center of the purple and silver embroidered ceremonial cloth and meets my gaze. “Hey! Get your furry little butt off my altar, you cheeky thing!” I say with a playful tone, before pressing my finger to my lips in thought. “Hm. So, what are we going to call you?” I ask. “Do you have a name, beautiful one?” Never one to ignore subtle signs, I swear the cat inclines its head ever so subtly, and the name ‘Salem’ pops into my head out of nowhere.
“Salem?” I ask, scrunching my nose in amusement as my brows furrow. “You’re named after the town?” I muse. “Or did someone name you after the cat from that teenage witch sitcom? Either way, a name is a name, I suppose ... and if yours is Salem, then Salem you’ll be!” I conclude.
Chapter Two
Setting down my things, glad to be relieved of my burdens, I smile at my familiar as I walk into the kitchen. “Do you want some warm milk?” I ask. “Of course you do.” I fetch a small bowl from the cupboard and fill it, heating the milk in the microwave for thirty seconds just to remove the chill from it. Then, setting it down on the wood-topped counter, I sigh, looking at my familiar expectantly. “Well, come on then,” I encourage. Salem jumps up with natural grace and nuzzles my hand again, then sits to lap up his creamy white gold. “You’re such a pretty boy,” I coo appreciatively. “Thank you for choosing me.”
Salem arches his back into my gentle strokes as he drinks, the picture of contentment. With a smile on my face, I reheat my still half-full abandoned cup of peppermint tea and sip at the sugary sweet and refreshing flavor. For several minutes I simply watch my handsome cat, so grateful that I chose to go ahead with my summoning ritual despite my initial misgivings. It’s been a while since I last cast real magic, and I had my doubts I could do it. I usually leave the workings of the universe to their own ends and just observe seasonal celebrations and moon phases... So, my ritual was my first time dipping into the arcane energy pool since I was a teenager.
Draining the last of my tea, I rinse out my cup and put it in the dish strainer to let it air dry. “All right, well it’s well past midnight, now,” I say, “and I’m exhausted, to be honest, not to mention I’m totally over having a wet butt. So, I think I’m going to have a hot shower and turn in for the night. I haven’t organized a cat bed or anything yet, obviously. I’m sorry, but you’re more than welcome to sleep anywhere you li
I had no idea that finding the right companion—a true familiar—could fill me with such an instant sense of innate happiness. There’s just something about my lovely black-as-night cat that makes my soul feel complete in a way that I can’t quite describe. The ritual does say that we’ll be bound forevermore, I muse. With a final giddy glance back, I wander off to the bathroom to wash and change into my pajamas.
Switching on the taps, I strip out of my cold ceremonial garb and the room begins to fill up with steam. A minute later hot water flows over my cool skin and I shiver as heat infuses my flesh once more. Lathering up my hair, I crane my neck back and revel in the floral scent with a sigh. It’s my favorite—midnight jasmine and cedarwood.
Bubbles trail their way luxuriously down my body in soapy rivulets, over my breasts and between my thighs, to swirl down the drain at my feet. The bathroom door creaks open, and I smile, my eyes still closed in bliss. “Hello, Salem,” I coo, certain the slinky feline has followed me and found his way into the bathroom. Rinsing the last of the suds from my hair, I wipe the water from my eyes to find my golden-eyed beauty sitting on the other side of the glass, regarding me with his ethereal gaze.
“You’re such a good boy,” I say as I turn off the water and step out of the shower, dripping onto the plush mat beneath my feet. I bend over at the waist, my full breasts falling forward, my nipples forming stiff peaks in the cool beyond the steam of the glass cubicle. I give him a quick scratch, before roughly drying my long red hair and running the fluffy black towel over the rest of me.
“That feels so much better,” I breathe, slipping into my freshly washed flannel pajamas. Then, running a comb through my curly locks to avoid morning tangles, I wrap up my nightly routine by brushing my teeth. I literally feel like a million dollars. Warm, relaxed, refreshed, content, and a proud witch with her very own familiar. I could probably walk on air if I tried! Salem feels more like home than it ever has—and I was born here—it’s beautiful and humbling all at once.
Salem rubs up against my shins, then follows me from the bathroom like my proverbial shadow. He’s already so loyal and attached! The simple realization brings a smile to my face, and I yawn. It’s definitely time for sleep. Leaving the candles alight on my altar, as well as by the window to burn out with the waning hours of All Hallows’ Eve, I pull back the covers of my four-poster canopy bed and climb in, instantly overwhelmed by its welcoming softness.
“Mm,” I sigh, adjusting the pillows behind me. Snuggling under the blankets, I get settled in, grateful to be back indoors and tucked away from the elements. It’s not as cold as winter just yet, but based on the chill factor alone, it’s on its way, that’s for sure. Salem jumps up and walks over me, practically vibrating like a furry little motor. “Are you going to sleep with me?” I ask, giving him more scratches around his ears, and then under his chin.
He closes his eyes in elegant kitty bliss, nuzzling into my hand with his wet nose, before kneading my breasts from on top of the covers with some serious affection. A laugh escapes me. I couldn’t be happier. “Aw. That’s fine by me,” I say, my heart full. “Make yourself at home, and Happy Halloween, Salem. I’m glad you’re here with me.” Salem curls up on my chest, comfortable as anything. It’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s something he’s always done—like it was meant to be.
If I’d had even the slightest inkling that finding my familiar would birth such a sense of harmony within me, I would have attempted to summon one years ago! No wonder witches have always had familiars throughout history, I marvel. It makes so much sense, now. I’m not going to be alone anymore! I can hardly believe it. Tears of happiness prick at the corners of my eyes as they flutter closed.
Our connection just feels so natural and perfectly in sync that I drift off to sleep in short order, lulled by the adorable sound of his steady, breathy purrs, feeling more at peace and content than I have in as long as I can remember. With my very last spark of consciousness before the darkness claims me completely, I lace my fingers through Salem’s midnight fur and thank the spirits again. “Blessed be,” I whisper.
Chapter Three
Pleasure thrums through my body and I moan, instinctively spreading my legs wide to invite more. The shadows in the room dance and moonlight streams in, the candles on my windowsill low. I stretch, languid like a cat, and smile dreamily, raising myself up onto my elbows. I glance down to find a dark-haired stranger with skin as black as night reverently tonguing my clit.
“Oh, my Goddess,” I gasp, bolts of living electricity sizzling along my nerves, all the way from my fingers to my toes. A pair of brilliant golden eyes with strangely familiar vertical irises meets my gaze. “What a dream,” I murmur, reaching down to tangle my fingers in the lovely, lush, black locks of my dream-lover, encouraging him to greater depravity. A moment later I feel the distinct and delicious intrusion of two fingers. They pump inside me, curling viciously upward as they plunder, reaching for the depths of my desire.
I release my dream-lover to grasp at fistfuls of blanket, unable to stop myself writhing against the wicked onslaught of my cunt. “Fuck, yes!” I cry out, my pussy aching with an almost painfully tangible need. “Please,” I beg. “Please, I want your cock!” My clit tingles and throbs along to the beat of my racing heart. It’s an exquisite agony and I find myself thanking the spirits of the All Hallows’ Eve for visiting me in my sleep. Wrapping up Halloween with a nasty visit from an incubus as I dream is just the cherry on top of an already wonderful, successful, and magical night.
“You want my cock, baby?” my otherworldly visitor asks, his glittering, golden eyes flashing as he moves up the bed, his lithe and muscular body hovering over me. “Are you sure?” he hisses.
“Please,” I beg again, the whine in my voice betraying my desperate need. “I’ve been alone so long.” And it’s true. It’s been a few years since my last boyfriend and self-pleasure only scratches the itch so far...
The impossibly sexy stranger seizes my wrists, pinning them above my head in the pillows before his lips catch mine with a bruising hunger. Lost in his kiss, he steals the breath from me as he plunges his cock into my sopping wet pussy, impaling me deep, hard, and fast.
I gasp into his mouth, arching my back, the sensation of being stretched and filled deliciously and mind-blowingly real. This is the best dream I’ve ever had! But the heavenly pleasure is interrupted a moment later when he moves to withdraw and I feel pain. It’s sharp and brief but drags a cry from my lips. His cock is hurting me ... like it’s covered in tiny spines. It feels like being rubbed with sandpaper, but a heartbeat later there’s pleasure once more. The juxtaposition of pleasure and pain is breathtaking, intense, and mind blowing all at once.
My dream lover breaks our kiss, his lower lip slack with lust, two small canines visible when he smiles down on me. Then adjusting his position while keeping me pinned and helpless, he begins to fuck me like a true demon of the night. Again and again, he undulates his hips, thrusting and burying himself to the hilt. His firm sac slaps me with every move and it’s erotic beyond my wildest imaginings.
Oh, Goddess! I need to look into summoning an incubus on the daily! I manage to muse in between incoherent moans and garbled, stolen breaths. He releases his viselike grip on my wrists and instead his strong hands find my throat, the tips of curved claws descending ever so slightly into my tender flesh.
Holy shit, yes! I cry out in my mind. I’ve never been more aroused in my life. If only I could find a man like this in the waking world! Someone real who would fuck me senseless for all the days of my life—a man who knows all the deviant things I like and knows exactly how to push my most primal buttons.
“I’ve been watching you,” growls my gorgeous nighttime suitor, his voice like warm, rich, honeyed whiskey to my ears. “I just needed a way in—an invitation into your life and home.”
