Page 5 of Fractured Constellations
Thorn slings an arm across my shoulders. “Don’t worry, bro, I got you. You can bunk with me. I’ll even let you be big spoon.”
“Fuck off.” My lips betray my words by lifting in a small smile.
“Oh, ho! Mr. Future CEO swore! Quick, Jerr, make sure the sky doesn’t fall down,” Thorn jokes, darting out of the way as I go to punch his arm.
“Come on, you two,” Blade states, speaking in that low, controlled tone he has that rarely changes in volume unless he’s upset. Even then, he mostly gets quieter, like the calm before the storm. “Let’s head up and let Jerry get some sleep.”
“Night, Jerr,” Thorn says, placing a kiss on the old man’s cheek before jogging up the stairs.
I shake my head. “Good night, Jerry.”
“Good night, Master Thorn, Master Chase,” Jerry replies as I turn to head up after my wayward brother.
The door to his room is open, and I pause before it, trying to make sense of the riot of colors and the sheer volume of stuff he has in here. It hurts my brain, and I set my bag down just inside the door, turning to head into my room to grab some clean clothes. If our new stepsister is asleep, well, she’ll just have to deal with me coming in. It’s my room.
My heart beats quickly as I take hold of the door handle, my body ignoring my mind, which tells me to just open the damn thing and grab my stuff. I turn the knob slowly, making sure not to make any more noise than necessary as I open the door.
The lamp by the bed is on, highlighting our new stepsister’s face perfectly. I come to a standstill, my eyes drinking in the sight of the angel who is currently fast asleep in my bed, the covers tucked up to her chin, one of my fluffy blankets wrapped around her too. Short blonde curls run riot around her head, framing a delicate face like a halo. Her slightly darker lashes kiss her pale cheek, one hand tucked under her face as she sleeps, unaware that she’s being watched.
I take a deep inhale, her scent of delicate vanilla with hints of jasmine filling my nose. It’s subtly sweet but not cloying. There’s an underlying clean, slightly clinical note that I can’t quite place.
“Stepsis is damn pretty,” Thorn whispers from beside me, but I don’t jump at his sudden appearance. I’ve trained myself not to flinch at surprises. To be unflappable at all times.
“Doesn’t matter,” Blade rumbles from behind us, coming up on my other side. “She’s still a money grabbing bitch, just like her mother.”
I look back at our new stepsister, taking in the innocence that appears to be written all over her face. I guess looks can be deceiving, so it really doesn’t matter. Reaching for thedoorknob again, I grasp it and quietly shut the door. I’ll just grab something of Thorn’s in the morning.
“Let’s get some sleep,” I suggest quietly, some part of me not wanting to wake her even though the door is shut. “Then we can make proper introductions in the morning.”
We head back down the hall, my room being the last bedroom in this part of the house. There’s only the den and Thorn’s studio down this hall, and I wonder which one we will have to sacrifice for our new family member.
Regardless, it will be the only concession she’ll get. I agree with Blade. It doesn’t matter if she looks like an angel; she’s only after one thing, and nothing says we need to make her life easier. In fact, I think we should make her regret the day her mother decided to trap our father. He may not be the best, but he’s still family, and we look out for each other. We’re under more of a microscope with Lorelei as she’s never far from Father, but by the sounds of it, he’s not that concerned by Lorelei’s daughter.
With various ideas swirling around inside my head, I come up with a plan of action as I get ready for bed. I’ll tell the others in the morning, but there’s a small smile on my face as I think about all the ways we will make Luna Wilder pay for taking what doesn’t belong to her.
“CONTROL” BY ZOE WEES
LUNA
A week after moving in, I wake early, a curse that befell me from my last course of treatment. In some ways, it’s nice, waking with the dawn. At other times, like now, as we head into summer and dawn is pretty fucking early, it’s a pain. Especially on the days that insomnia will hit, and you can bet it will. Not to mention, my energy window will be reduced to a four-hour slot between eleven am and three pm if my previous experience is anything to go by. Just another fun fuck you from good old Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.
Swinging my legs out of the bed, I let my toes nestle in the thick carpet. Today is not only the day that I finally get to meet my new stepbrothers, but I also get my surgically implanted subclavian port, which will help deliver the chemo directly into a central vein. It’s not the most pleasant feeling, though I guess knowing what it feels like and what lies ahead makes it a little easier this time around.
“Right, Luna May. Time to put our big girl panties on and take this shit one step at a time. Breakfast first.”
Throwing on one of my favorite off-the-shoulder, linen blend jumpers and some cotton shorts, I head down to the kitchen in search of food. Might as well enjoy it before my tastebuds change, which they will. There’s nothing like having your favorite food suddenly taste like ass to fuck up your day.
I pause when I enter the dining room, seeing four places set where usually it’s just mine. Mom and Richard have clearly been in their honeymoon period—gag—and often don’t emerge until noon. Though hopefully today, Mom has remembered my appointment. I’ve not seen her much this past week to remind her.
Heading to my usual spot, I pass by what looks like a bowl of porridge. In fact, glancing around, I see three bowls of porridge in addition to my covered plate. Going over to the first bowl, I take a deep inhale, and the smell of creamy oats has my mouthsalivating. I haven’t had porridge in years, and before I even question the impulse, I dip my finger in, then pull it back with a yelp.
“Too damn hot. Who eats this lava?” I question, sucking my finger as I go over to the next bowl. Shrugging, figuring I’ve already committed the sin of touching someone else’s food, I dip my finger in, and my face scrunches at the cold. “What the fuck kind of person eats cold porridge?” Shaking my head, I walk around to the other side of the table, the place next to mine. Next to this bowl is a glass jar, and my eyes widen when I read the label. “All hail the god of food, the mighty Nutella,” I whisper as I cautiously dip my finger into the Nutella first and then this bowl. I’m already a heathen, why not cement my crime?
My eyes flutter closed when I bring my finger to my lips, a moan escaping me. Just fucking right.
“Busted, pretty stepsis,” a low voice whispers behind me, and I jump about four feet into the air, a sound like a startled cat leaving me.
“Jesus, fuck! You scared the shit out of me,” I hiss as I face the mystery man who just gave me the fright of my life.
