My Toxic Stepbrother

Midnight Fight.

** Riley Bennett **

The mansion was too quiet. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums until you could hear the thrum of your own blood. I checked the digital clock on my bedside table: 1:05 a.m.. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a handful of dry sand, a lingering side effect of the shouting match Kai and I had earlier in the hallway.

I threw back the duvet and stood up, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. I didn’t turn on the light. I didn't want to alert anyone, especially not the person whose low, mocking laugh was still echoing in my head from a few hours ago. I cracked my door open, the hinges giving a tiny, traitorous squeak. The hallway was bathed in the pale, blue glow of the moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I crept toward the stairs, my hand hovering just above the railing. Every shadow looked like a tall, broad-shouldered figure waiting to pounce. By the time I reached the kitchen, my heart was already doing a nervous tap-dance against my ribs.

I rounded the corner of the marble island and froze.

The overhead lights were off, but the amber glow from the designer oven’s display illuminated a figure sitting at the far end of the island. Kai. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the intricate black ink of the tattoos covering his chest and arms seemed to writhe in the dim light. A glass of amber liquid sat in front of him, and a bottle of expensive whiskey was uncapped nearby.

He didn't look up, but I knew he heard me. He always knew when I was there.

"Thirsty, Riley?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sent a localized shiver down my spine.

"I just wanted water," I said, keeping my voice flat. I marched past him toward the fridge, my eyes fixed forward. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and predatory.

"Help yourself. It’s a big house," he murmured, the ice clinking against his glass as he took a slow sip. "Plenty of room for everyone. Right?"

I grabbed a bottle of water and turned, leaning against the cold fridge. "Is that what you call this? A happy home? My mother thinks she’s found a fairy tale, but this place feels more like a prison.".

Kai finally looked at me. His dark eyes were hooded, reflecting the faint light. He set his glass down with a definitive thud. "Your mother is living in a dream world, and my father is happy to play the prince as long as his shirts are pressed. They’re both pathetic.".

"Don’t talk about her like that," I snapped, my grip tightening on the plastic water bottle. "She actually believes this could work. She thinks we’re going to be some perfect, blended family.".

Kai let out a short, harsh bark of a laugh. He stood up, his height immediately making the kitchen feel smaller. He started walking toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, like a cat cornering a bird. "A family? Is that what you think this is? You and me, playing house while they pretend they aren't just using each other to fill a void?".

"At least she’s trying," I said, my voice rising. "You just sit around acting like a spoiled asshole because you’re bored and rich.".

He stopped a few feet away, his jaw tight. "A spoiled asshole? That’s rich coming from the girl who moved into a mansion and spent the first forty-eight hours whining about the decor. You’re just a stuck-up b***h who thinks she’s too good for the rest of us.".

"I never asked for this!" I yelled, the words echoing off the tile walls. "I didn't ask for a new father, and I definitely didn't ask for a 'brother' who spends his time trying to crawl under my skin!".

"Is that what I’m doing, Riley?" He took another step, closing the gap until I could smell the sharp scent of whiskey and something woodsy on his skin. "Or are you just mad that I’m the only one in this house who actually sees you?".

"You don't see anything," I spat. "You're just a bully with a trust fund. You think you can dominate everyone because your dad owns half the city.".

Kai’s face darkened. His temper, always simmering just below the surface, finally boiled over. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, his fingers like iron bands. He pulled me forward, dragging me away from the fridge and flush against his warm, bare chest.

I gasped, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. I tried to pull back, but he held me firm, his other hand coming up to grip the edge of the counter behind me, effectively pinning me in place.

"Let go of me, Kai," I whispered, though my voice lacked its usual bite. My heart was thundering so loud I was sure he could feel it through my thin sleep shirt.

"Make me," he challenged, his face inches from mine. His breath was warm against my cheek. "You love the fight, Riley. You love the way it feels when we’re like this. Admit it.".

"I hate you," I said, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth.

"Liars go to hell," he murmured, repeating the words from earlier, but this time they felt like a promise rather than a taunt.

We both froze, our breathing heavy and synchronized in the dark room. The anger was still there, thick and suffocating, but something else had entered the space between us—a tension so sharp it felt like it could draw blood. I stared into his dark eyes, searching for the cruelty I usually saw there, but for a split second, they looked raw, almost desperate.

His gaze dropped. It didn't go to my neck or my eyes. It settled on my lips.

The world seemed to stop spinning. The silence of the house returned, but now it was charged with electricity. I should have shoved him. I should have screamed. Instead, I stayed perfectly still, my lips parted, my pulse racing in my throat.

He lingered there for what felt like an eternity, his thumb tracing the delicate skin of my wrist where he still held me. The air was thick with the things we weren't supposed to want.

Then, as quickly as he’d grabbed me, he let go.

He stepped back, the sudden absence of his heat making me feel cold and exposed. He didn't say another word. He just turned, picked up his glass, and walked out of the kitchen, his shadow disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

I stayed where I was, my legs shaking so hard I had to lean against the island for support. I looked down at my wrist; the skin was red where his fingers had been. My heart wouldn't slow down, and my mind was a chaotic mess of rage and a terrifying, New confusion.

I had come down for water, but as I stood alone in the dark kitchen, thirst was the last thing on my mind.