MARKED BY MY STEPBROTHER

Chapter Four

Kael

She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.

Or maybe she does, and that’s what makes it worse.

Her scent is everywhere—trapped in the guest room, bleeding into the hallways, latching onto the air like a quiet curse. It’s not just perfume. It’s her. Raw and real and maddening.

I tried to outrun it this morning. Put on my headphones. Hit the pavement until my legs ached. But I came back, and there she was.

Barefoot. Wide-eyed. Wearing sleep and fear like twin veils.

And still, all I could think about was touching her again.

I shouldn’t have said anything. Should’ve kept walking. But when I saw her in the hall, something snapped.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?”

The words tasted like betrayal. But it was the truth. And she didn’t deny it.

Now I’m pacing my room like a damn animal.

I’ve always had control. Even when the bond first started to thrum under my skin—when the signs began showing—I told myself it was a fluke. That it couldn’t be her. Couldn’t be the girl I saw in the quad two months ago. The one I started watching from a distance without even knowing her name.

But the moment she walked through the door yesterday and our eyes met, everything inside me went still. The bond didn’t whisper. It screamed.

And now we’re under the same roof.

I sit on the edge of the bed and clench my fists, willing the burn to pass. It won’t. It never does when she’s this close.

The bond has phases. I’ve read enough to know that. First, the recognition—usually through scent. Then the pull. The dreams. The inability to stay away. Eventually, the mating heat sets in. Once that happens, it’s irreversible. Unforgivable, too, in this situation.

She’s my father’s fiancée’s daughter. My stepsister.

Not by blood. But that’s not what matters.

What matters is that she’s forbidden. That I should protect her from the truth. That she shouldn’t be tied to a world like mine.

Because I’m not just a college student. Not just someone dealing with a biological quirk or a hidden curse.

I’m a marked mate.

And now so is she.

I stand up and pull on a hoodie, trying to shake the thought. I need space. Distance. Something to remind me I still have a choice.

Downstairs, the air is quieter than usual. No dishes clattering. No my-dad’s-laugh echoing from the kitchen. Just her voice—soft, uncertain—talking to my father.

I pause at the foot of the stairs, listening.

“…it’s a lot. But I’m trying. Really.”

“You’re doing great,” Nathan says. “Kael’s… well, Kael’s complicated. Give him time.”

“I don’t think he likes me,” she murmurs.

My stomach twists.

“Not true,” I mutter under my breath.

I walk away before I hear more, pushing out the back door and into the cold air. I sit on the steps, pull my hood up, and stare at the woods behind the house.

The old instincts flare.

Run. Shift. Hide.

But I can’t. Not now. Not without risking her seeing something she’s not ready to understand. Not without unraveling everything I’ve barely kept under control.

I didn’t choose this bond.

But I feel it—how she affects the rhythm of my heart. How her voice echoes long after it’s gone. How even her confusion, her fear, sparks something protective and wild in me.

She doesn’t know what it means yet. But I do.

I’ve known since I first caught her scent on campus and couldn’t breathe for two full minutes.

Marked.

She’s mine.

Even if I never touch her. Even if I have to spend the rest of my life pretending otherwise.

The back door creaks.

I turn.

She’s barefoot again. Wearing a hoodie that swallows her frame. Her hair’s pulled up into a messy knot, like she didn’t care how she looked—or maybe she didn’t realize how that only made her look more like a dream.

“I didn’t mean to overhear you,” she says quietly.

I don’t answer.

She sits beside me on the step, knees pulled to her chest.

“I don’t want to make things hard for you,” she says. “If my being here is a problem…”

“It’s not,” I say too quickly.

She blinks at me. “It kind of feels like it is.”

“I’m the problem. Not you.”

She looks away. “Why does it feel like we’ve done this before? Like I already know you.”

Because your soul remembers me.

I don’t say it. Can’t.

“I don’t know,” I say instead. “Some people just… feel familiar.”

“That’s terrifying.”

I nod. “It is.”

We sit in silence. Just the wind and the creak of tree limbs in the distance. And then—

“I had a dream about you,” she says suddenly, almost too fast to catch.

I turn slowly.

“What kind of dream?”

She hesitates, her teeth sinking into her lip. “You were touching me. Not like—just… holding my wrist. Like you were checking for something. I don’t know. It felt real. Too real.”

A jolt travels through me.

The mark.

The bond tries to confirm itself through touch. Through dreams. Through imprinting.

And it’s already started.

I close my eyes. “You should stay away from me.”

“I tried.”

My heart slams into my ribs.

She stands, brushing invisible dust off her legs. “I don’t think I can.”

Then she walks away.

And I don’t stop her.

I just sit there, marked and aching, knowing this has only just begun.