Page 9 of You Were Always Mine
The silence after is deafening. My pulse is thunder, my breath ragged, and I know I should shove him back, scream at him, run — but I don’t.
I just stand there, pinned under his stare, my body betraying me with every shiver, every unspoken answer.
My throat is dry, my palms damp, and I know he can see it — the way I’m trembling, the way my chest rises too fast, like he’s already won. I force my chin higher, scrape my voice together and spit out the first words that don’t sound like begging.
‘You’re insane,’ I whisper — brittle, sharp at the edges. ‘You don’t get to dictate my life just because we share a roof. Or a last name. Or—’ My voice cracks and I hate it, so I swallow hard and push again. ‘Maybe I want him to touch me. Maybe I’ll let him.’
The lie burns my tongue, the bravado collapsing even as I say it.
Kai’s smile curves slow, lethally, like he’s savouring the way I stumble over my own defiance. His knuckle trails along my collarbone, a featherlight drag that makes my breath catch despite every ounce of pride in me.
‘Maybe you will,’ he murmurs — eyes dark, voice velvet and venom. ‘But you’ll think of me when you do.’
My knees nearly buckle. I shove at his chest — not hard enough to move him, just enough to break the current sparking between us. ‘Get out of my way, Kai.’
For a beat, he doesn’t move. Then he steps back, just enough to let the air between us rush in, cold and thin. His gaze lingers, burning like a brand, and when he finally speaks, it’s soft enough to split me open.
‘Run along then, little sister.’ His smirk deepens, cruel and certain. ‘Let’s see how far you get.’
I grab my bag, fumble with the handle, and shove the door open. The sunlight outside feels too bright, too sharp — but it doesn’t chase away the heat of his breath in my ear, the ghost of his words wrapped around my throat.
Kai
The door shuts hard enough to rattle the frame, and for a moment the silence feels like it might split me in half. I should let her go. I should laugh it off, drown the taste of her defiance in another drink, another nameless body.
I can still see her.
The black dress clinging to her hips, the straps thin over her shoulders, her lips painted red like she wanted me to smear them with my mouth. Scarlett doesn’t dress like that for ‘just a friend’. She dressed like that to kill me — to remind me that every inch of her is temptation carved into flesh, and I’m the one sin-sick enough to want it.
My hand remains braced against the door where I pinned her, and my skin burns from her heat. I flex my fingers as if I can scrub her ghost from me. It doesn’t work. It never works.
She thinks she got away clean. She thinks walking out into the sunlight makes her safe, but I saw the way hervoice broke, the way her pulse stuttered under my hand, the way her body betrayed her when I asked if she was still a virgin. She can snarl, she can spit venom, but she can’t hide that.
I move to the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to watch her cross the drive — those heels clicking sharply against the pavement, her bag slung over her shoulder, hair catching the light. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t have to. She knows I’m watching.
My jaw locks so hard it hurts.Just a friend,she said.
No.
Whoever he is, he’s already dead.
Scarlett doesn’t get to offer herself to anyone else.
Not when she’s mine.
Ava’s perfume still lingers in the kitchen — cloying, sweet, sharp enough to stick in the back of my throat. Last night she leaned into me at the bar, her laugh too loud, her hand sliding over my thigh like she already knew where she wanted the night to end. She followed me home without hesitation, heels clicking against the pavement, eyes full of expectation.
She thought she’d won. Thought I’d take her upstairs, press her against the wall, fuck her until her lipstick smeared across my sheets. She thought she was the kind of girl men couldn’t resist.
I didn’t touch her.
Not once.
She’ll tell her friends Kai Everly is a gentleman — that he let her stay, let her flirt, let her paint his morning in red and sugar and laughter, but didn’t push for more. She’ll think I was being polite.
I’m not polite. I’m not a gentleman. I’m not interested in sweetness or easy smiles.
The truth is simpler. Uglier.
