Page 8 of You Were Always Mine
Then he straightens, smirk sliding back into place like armour, stepping aside with a mock bow. ‘Run along, then. Don’t keep your “friend” waiting.’
My heart is beating too hard, too loud, but I lift my chin, shove past him, and keep walking. If he sees how my hands are shaking, he doesn’t say a word.
My room is a mess of clothes strewn across the bed, the wardrobe half-emptied in my frantic search for something that feels like armour. I tell myself it’s for me, for confidence, for whoever’s waiting outside — but the truth coils ugly and undeniable in my chest. I want him to see.
I end up in the black dress. Short. Tight. Straps thin against my shoulders, hem dangerous against my thighs. My hair falls loose down my back, a slash of red lipstick across my mouth that looks like sin. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I almost laugh — because I look nothing like a little sister heading out for a friendly brunch. I look like trouble.
Good. Let him choke on it.
I grab my bag, slip my heels on, and creep down the stairs as quietly as I can, every muscle tense, heart thudding, certain Kai’s long gone back to whatever cave he crawled from. The hallway is silent, the front door only a few feet away, freedom hanging within reach.
‘Going somewhere?’
His voice slices through the air behind me.
I freeze, spine locking, and turn slowly.
He’s there — leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, hair a little damp from a shower, clean shirt stretched across his shoulders. His eyes drag over me in one slow sweep, head to toe, and the look is nothing like a brother’s.
It’s possession. Hunger.
It makes my knees weak.
For a heartbeat he doesn’t speak, doesn’t move — just lets his gaze burn over every inch of bare skin I’ve dared to show. His jaw ticks, his throat works, and then that dangerous smirk carves across his mouth.
‘Interesting outfit,’ Kai murmurs, voice low. ‘Does your friend know you’re planning to kill him with it?’
My chest heaves, heat flooding my face, but I force a laugh — brittle, sharp. ‘Maybe that’s the point.’
His eyes narrow, glinting. ‘He won’t survive five minutes.’
He pushes off the wall — slow, deliberate — and closes the space between us until the door blocks us, and the air is thick, and my back hits the wood. His hand lifts, just barely brushing my hair back over my shoulder, knuckles grazing my skin like a dare.
‘No,’ he says finally, eyes burning into mine. ‘No friend deserves you looking like this.’
My breath stutters. My mouth opens, closes. I don’t move. I can’t.
For the first time, Kai isn’t looking at me like a brother.
He’s looking at me like I’m his favourite sin.
The wood is cold against my spine, my bag slipping from my shoulder to the floor, forgotten — because Kai is too close, his breath brushing my cheek, his scent drowning me: soap, coffee, danger.
His fingers trail down the strap of my dress, just a whisper of touch, knuckle grazing bare skin until goosebumps rise down my arm. He tilts his head, blue eyes catching mine like he’s peeling me open one layer at a time.
‘Tell me, little sister,’ he murmurs, voice low, lethal, threaded with something that makes my stomach knot, ‘are you still a virgin?’
The air leaves my lungs in a stutter. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
His smirk sharpens — cruel, knowing. His fingertip drags along the inside of my wrist now, feather-light, enough to make me squirm, enough to make my knees lock so I don’t buckle.
‘Or are you planning on losing it to…’ He pauses, his mouth brushing so close to my ear I feel the heat of every word. ‘…your friend?’
I can’t answer. I can’t breathe. My body betrays me, heat pooling low, a tremor running through me that I pray he can’t feel — but of course he does. His grin tells me he does.
I try to push past him, but his hand presses flat to the door beside my head, blocking me in.
‘Just one more thing before you go,’ Kai says, his tone dark now — promise wrapped in threat. His gaze cuts down my body, back to my face, burning. ‘If your friend lays a hand on you—’ his jaw flexes, his breath rough against my skin, ‘I will fucking cut them off.’
