Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“You brought her here? Why?”
I laugh, enjoying how he flinches at the sound. “Because I can. Because I want to. She’s currently making herself quite comfortable in my bed.”
“She’s trying to play you.” The words come out through gritted teeth.
“Is she?” I lean against the wall, studying his reaction. “Or is she finally getting what you were too afraid to give her? Someone who isn’t afraid of wanting her?”
I watch as his hands clench into fists.
“You’re obsessed. She sees through you.”
“Does she?” I smile, knowing it’ll push him further. “Funny, she didn’t seem to mind when I kissed her. When I touched her. When I—”
“Stop.” Raw pain edges his voice. Perfect.
“Afraid to hear how responsive your precious stepsister is? How she arches into my hands? How she begs for—”
“I’ll kill you.” He lunges at the glass.
“No.” I step closer to the window, dropping my voice lower. “You’ll sit in this cell and imagine everything I’m doing to her. Everything she’s letting me do. Everything you were too cowardly to do yourself.”
A small gasp from behind me makes me freeze. I turn to find Lilian standing down the hall from the observation window, fury in her features. Her presence here means she’s disobeyed my direct orders.
“I told you to stay upstairs.” My voice comes out deadly quiet.
“And I chose not to listen.” Her chin lifts defiantly as she closes the distance between us.” Guess you’ll have to punish me.”
Behind me, Aries makes a sound of protest. In front of me, Lilian stands her ground, daring me to follow through on my threat.
Two siblings. Two forms of defiance. And my control is hanging on by a thread.
Time to show them both exactly who’s in charge here.
Lilian
My heart stops when I see him.
Aries. My Aries. But not as I’ve ever seen him before.
His usually perfect hair sticks up, unwashed and unkempt. His face, now covered with a soft beard, is gaunt, cheekbones stretched and sharp beneath pale skin. The simple sweats he wears hang loosely on his frame.
None of those things, though, hurt me as much as his eyes. Those eyes that always held careful distance now burn with a desperate intensity I’ve never seen before.
“Aries,” I whisper, my palm pressing against the glass.
Behind me, Arson watches. I can feel his presence like a physical weight, the tension in his body as he observes us.
For a moment, he says nothing, allowing me this moment of connection.
I step closer to the glass, drinking in every detail of my stepbrother’s imprisonment. Despite everything—his condition, the cell, the circumstances—he still carries himself with that innate Hayes dignity. Still stands straight-backed and proud, even in captivity.
“Are you okay?” I mouth the words, unsure if he can hear me.
Aries moves closer to the glass, his hand coming up to mirror mine on the other side. For years, I’ve imagined touching him like this, our hands aligned, nothing between us at all. The irony isn’t lost on me that it takes his imprisonment to create this moment of intimacy. Something passes between us in that silent connection—years of unspoken feelings, of careful distance maintained, of boundaries respected.
His eyes say everything his voice cannot: concern, fear, confusion.
I feel Arson shift behind me, a subtle movement that radiates displeasure. Jealousy, perhaps. The air thickens with tension as the three of us form a triangle of complicated emotions—my long-held love for Aries warring with this new, dangerous attraction to his twin.
“Touching,” Arson’s voice breaks the silence, edged with something dangerous. “The princess finally gets to see her prince. Though I’m afraid he’s not quite so charming these days.”
I ignore him, maintaining eye contact with Aries. His gaze shifts briefly to his brother, then back to me. A warning flashes there—be careful, tread lightly, he’s dangerous.
As if I need the reminder when every nerve in my body is already aware of Arson’s predatory presence behind me. The man who imprisoned my stepbrother. The man whose bed I just left. God help me, I want them both.
“Let him go.” I turn from the glass to face Arson, voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Please. You’ve made your point.”
Arson studies me, head tilted slightly like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “My point?”
“That you can take everything from him. That you have the power.” I step closer, using the connection I know exists between us. “But this—keeping him like an animal—it makes you just like them. The ones who locked you away.” Something flickers in his eyes—a nerve struck. “You’re better than this,” I continue, keeping my voice gentle. “Better than them. You can protect me and continue with your plans against the family without turning into the monster they tried to make you.” My hand reaches for his arm, fingers tentative on his sleeve. “Please, Arson. Show me you’re different.”
For a moment—just a heartbeat—I think I’ve reached him. His expression softens infinitesimally, his body leaning toward mine as if drawn by gravity.