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)
Exactly as I anticipated. The perfect little stepsister, torn between twins. One she’s loved from afar for years, the other she’s drawn to despite everything.
Or perhaps because of everything.
The security door beeps as I punch in the code, shoving it open with more force than necessary. She stumbles slightly as I guide her into our shared living space, but I don’t soften my grip. Can’t afford to show weakness now.
“Sit.” I gesture toward the kitchen table, finally releasing her.
She obeys, perching on the edge of the chair like she might flee at any moment. Good. She should be wary after that display downstairs. After the proposition I laid out with Aries watching. I move to the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients with mechanical precision.
Cooking has always calmed me, given my hands something to do besides violence. Right now, I need that distraction.
“Are you hungry?” I keep my tone casual as if we’re just roommates having an ordinary evening. As if I didn’t just propose to trade her body for her stepbrother’s freedom.
She doesn’t answer, staring at her hands folded on the table.
“Lilian.” Sharper now. “I asked if you were hungry.”
“No.” The word comes out small, defeated. Nothing like the fire she showed downstairs.
I study her while chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency. The knife feels good in my hand—familiar, controlled. Unlike the chaos she brings to my carefully constructed plans.
“You should eat anyway.” I slide the vegetables into a pan, the sizzle filling the silence between us. “Need to keep your strength up.”
Her eyes flick to mine briefly, then away. “Why? So I can...what was it? Trade my body for his freedom?”
There it is—the spark I was looking for. Not completely broken then despite the submissive posture.
“Among other things.” I focus on the food, not looking at her. “Though I’m still deciding whether that offer is on the table. Your performance downstairs was uninspiring.”
A slight intake of breath tells me the barb landed. Good. I need her to be off-balance and reactive. Need to know which Lilian I’m dealing with—the manipulative strategist or the genuinely conflicted girl caught between twin desires.
Because one I can control. The other might destroy everything.
“Pasta or rice?” I ask as if we’re having a normal conversation. As if the air between us isn’t charged with possibility and threat.
Just two people having dinner. Nothing more.
Nothing less.
The kitchen fills with silence save for the hiss of cooking food and the precise rhythm of my knife against the cutting board. She hasn’t answered my question about pasta or rice. Another small defiance to add to the growing list.
I set down the knife and turn to face her fully, leaning back against the counter. Her posture remains perfect—shoulders straight, chin slightly lowered, hands folded. The picture of submission.
Too perfect. Too controlled.
“Look at me,” I command softly.
She raises her eyes, and I search for clues in them. Is she plotting? Calculating her next move? Or genuinely defeated by seeing her precious Aries caged?
“Rice,” she finally says, voice quiet. “If you’re making me eat.”
“I am.” I turn back to the stove, adding seasoning to the pan. “Hard to properly beg with low blood sugar.”
I catch her slight flinch from the corner of my eye. Good. Her emotional reactions feed my beast.
“So.” I keep my tone conversational while my mind races through scenarios. “What exactly are you willing to do to save him?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication. I don’t turn to look at her, giving her the illusion of privacy while she formulates her answer.
“You already know.” Her voice comes out steadier than I expected. “I said anything.”
“Anything is a dangerous word, Lilian.” I plate the food with meticulous care, setting one dish in front of her before taking the seat opposite. “Especially with someone like me.”
Her eyes meet mine across the table. “Someone like you? You mean a monster?”
I smile, pleased by her attempt to provoke me. “Among other things. But monsters can be quite...creative when given free rein.”
“Is that what you want?” She ignores the food in front of her. “Free rein over me?”
“What I want,” I say, carefully spearing a piece of chicken on my fork, “is honesty. So I’ll ask again. What would you sacrifice for his freedom? And this time, be specific.”
She swallows hard, the pulse in her throat fluttering visibly. “My body. My...virginity. My obedience. Whatever you want.”
The words should please me. Should feed the dark hunger that’s been growing since I first saw her. Instead, they land flatly and rehearsed. Like she’s offering herself on an altar—a sacrifice rather than a willing participant.
“Virginity?” I set down my fork. “Now that is interesting. The perfect Hayes daughter, saving herself all these years. For what? Marriage? Or were you hoping Aries would finally notice you weren’t his little sister anymore?”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. “Does it matter?”