Cyrus
She smells like temptation wrapped in danger. Like moonlit sweat and something sweeter—like mine.
And I’d bury my face between her thighs just to get drunk off that scent if I could.
Cain’s doing the same damn thing I am, staring, craving, losing control—and I hate that we both want her.
But I’m not gonna stop.
She’s the only thing in this gods-damned house that keeps me sane. Or insane. I don’t even know anymore.
Then—boom.
My father's presence slams into the room like a whip. Cain and I flinch, the instinct kicking in fast. We shove her away, flipping open books, pretending like we weren’t about to take her right here on the floor.
The door creaks open.
“I need to talk to both of you,” our father barks, eyes narrowing.
Cain leans back, unbothered and half-drunk. “For what
