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“I like yours better,” I mumbled, eyes flicking up to the purple bruise blooming beneath his eye.

His black hair clung to his forehead, damp, and messy in a way that felt intentional without trying. His eyes, so dark they looked black in the shadows, watched me as he crouched down. His jaw was sharp and clean-shaven. Beautiful, in a way that felt misplaced in this house full of cold and ugly people.

But don’t get me wrong, he was dangerous. I knew that. He wore his bad like a scent, a warning.

That stupid black button-up, always with two buttons undone, revealing his silver cross. A middle finger to the whole idea of faith. Tight black jeans. Black All-Stars I wasn’t allowed to wear.

Sneakers are for boys,my stepmother would say.Girls wear heels and dresses.

I never got what I wanted.

Dorian reached for my hand. From behind his back, he pulled out a chocolate muffin with a single pink candle sticking out.

He placed it gently in my palm.

“Happy birthday, Trouble.”

I couldn’t help the smile. “You remembered.”

He lit the candle. His smirk replaced the smile, cocky and soft all at once.

“Make a wish.”

“What’s the point?” I whispered. “I never get my wish.”

“Maybe this time you will,” he said, raising a brow, hand sliding up to scratch the back of his head.

Those hands. Veined and strong, covered in tattoos like messy, beautiful stories. They were too much.Hewas too much. My body always betrayed me when he was near. It was wrong. So fucking wrong.

Tonight, tonight, he’d haunt me forever. Because after midnight, he knew there would be no more lines to cross. Nothing holding him back.

I closed my eyes, blew out the candle, and swallowed the breath that trembled in my chest.

He leaned in, too close. His voice brushed across my lips.“What did you wish for, Trouble?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. He saw it in my face.

“For me to leave,” I muttered.

He didn’t believe me. Of course, he didn’t. He chuckled, low and wicked. “Nah, Trouble. You wished for that kiss you never got.”

“No.” My eyes snapped open, hands pushing against his chest.

But my heart didn’t listen. It sounded like it wanted to leap into his.

He came closer anyway. Fingers skimmed my jaw and lifted my chin.

“Who would’ve thought mysisterwould be the one to make my dick so fucking hard,“ he murmured.

“Ew. Gross.” I shoved him again. “Step-sister. Not sister. Huge difference.”

“I’m just teasing.” He leaned in again, eyes dropping to my lips. “But you just confirmed what I already knew.”

I stiffened. “And what’s that?”

He hissed softly, a grin spreading slowly like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re in love.”