Claimed By My Alpha Stepbrother.

14

SERAPHINA

"It's really you." I was too hurt to restrain myself. I didn't want to keep trying to prove a point but my emotions failed me. "The guy from Vegas."

Azriel's hands tightened on the doorframe.

"Acting dumb now?" I stepped closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Or looking for a new cover-up?" I accused immediately I saw a crack in his facade.

"Is that how you apologize?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I thought you were here to apologize." He leaned against the frame, all lazy confidence. "But you're just being more rude."

"Excuse me?" I folded my arms. His eyes flicked down for half a second. I caught it. "You think I'm the one who needs to apologize?"

"You're the one banging on my door at midnight."

"And you're pretending you don't know me!"

He laughed, running a hand through his messy wet hair. "Baby girl, I think I'd remember you if we had ever met."

"Las Vegas." I took a step closer, repeating it to jog his memory. "My first time. The hot sex."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you had a great time. Unfortunately, I don’t recall anything like that. Plus, I don't do..." he looked me up and down, "little ones."

"You're unbelievable." Frustration welled up inside me. I still couldn’t understand why I wanted him to remember me so badly. Was moving on really that difficult? "You’re seriously going to stand there and—"

"Seraphina." He said my name softly, as if he were done arguing with a child. "It's late. Go to bed and stop this nonsense about us having met."

He slammed the door shut in my face, barely missing me, which only fueled my anger further. It was the second time I felt abandoned, even though the first should have been enough.

I stood there staring at the wood, my hands shaking at my sides. The silent hallway that had been scary suddenly felt like it was taunting me.

I wanted to scream. Kick the damned door down. I felt so stupid.

With my zero dignity, I walked back to my room, thoroughly humiliated. I closed the door and leaned against it, sliding down until my knees hit the floor.

He just didn't want me.

I pressed my palms against my eyes until I saw stars. The realization that I had given my first time to a bastard who wouldn't even acknowledge my existence was the bucket of cold water I didn't know I needed. Then knowing that my mother married his father and I was stuck with him was the coal that burned my feet.

Fine. If he was going to play this game, I would play along. Perfectly.

***

Morning came after an awful night of wet dreams.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of my girly room, yanking the hem of my plaid skirt lower. It didn't budge. I replayed the door slamming in my face for the hundredth time, angrily blowing at the strand of hair that has stubbornly decided to keep falling in my face.

"You're nothing," I told my reflection. "He is nothing."

I examined myself once more, nodding in satisfaction. All ready for today.

I grabbed my backpack and marched downstairs. "Mom? Dad?"

I've gotten into the habit of calling Alistair "dad." Honestly, why wouldn't I? He has been wonderful and kind to me—the best father I could have ever wished for since my biological father was absent. It didn't take much to persuade me to adopt his last name. This makes me curious about how he ended up with a piece of s**t like Azriel. It must be a trait inherited from his mother. By the way, I knew nothing about Alistair's biological wife.

My voice echoed through the foyer. I wandered into the kitchen, my boots loud against the tile.

"Mom?"

No one answered.

They must've left early. I shrugged and dropped my bag onto the island, reaching for a banana from the fruit bowl. That was when the back door swung open.

Azriel walked in, his tank top plastered to his chest with sweat, his hair damp and pushed back from his forehead. He didn't look at me. He went straight to the refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle, and downed half of it in one go. I peeled my banana and pretended he was wallpaper.

Then he set the bottle down, grabbed the back of his tank top and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the counter.

My throat went dry.

With how he was dressed, my best guess would be that he just came back from a run.

"Morning, Seraphina."

I bit into my banana and said nothing.

"Ignoring me now?"

I chewed on and didn't reply. Instead, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

"That skirt's too short."

I stopped and turned slowly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, every muscle in his abdomen shifting with the movement. "Go change."

I laughed. "You don't get to tell me what to wear."

"I do."

"Oh!" I took a step closer, lifting my chin. "And why should I listen to you?"

"I'm your brother."

I scoffed. "More like you're worried my sexy thighs will remind a certain someone of Vegas."

His jaw tightened. "Go. Change."

"No."

He pushed off the counter so fast I barely had time to gasp. One second I was standing there, the next I was upside down over his shoulder, my skirt flipping up, my bag clattering to the floor.

"Are you out of your f*****g mind? Put me down!"

"Gladly." He took the stairs two at a time, my fists pounding against his bare back. "When you change."

He kicked open my bedroom door and dropped me onto the mattress. I bounced, scrambling to my feet, my face burning.

"You absolute—"

"Change." He blocked the doorway, arms crossed again, sweat still glistening on his skin. "Or don't come out. And forget about school."

"You can't—"

"Watch me."

I glared at him. He stared back, unblinking.

"You asshole," I spat.

I saw the seriousness in his eyes. I checked my wristwatch. It was 8:20 AM.

Biting my lips in anger, "f**k!" I cursed.

"Language , little girl."

I shot him a glare. If I continued this way, I would be late, and I couldn't risk that. We had our entry exam for the internship I've been wanting for so long.

I grabbed the first pair of jeans I could find and slammed the bathroom door. When I came out, he was still there, blocking my door.

"Happy?" I spread my arms.

His eyes traveled down my body. "Ecstatic."

I shoved past him, my shoulder hitting his chest hard enough to hurt. "Don't think this means you can control my life."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

***

During my time at school today, I found myself distracted, preoccupied with the memory of him tossing me over his shoulder. After everything wants to dictate what I wear?

By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to crawl out of my skin. Maya caught me at my locker, her notebook to her chest.

"Can we do the group project at your place? Please? My mom's hosting her book club and they'll literally eat us alive."

"Sure." I slammed my locker shut. It would be nice to have people over and not just be alone with him.

"Can Derek and Priya join us too?" She asked bouncing on her feet.

I sighed. "Fine. But my stepbrother's weird. Ignore him."

"Weird how?"

"You'll see."

Maya gasped when we got to the front of the house. "Oh my goodness, Seraphina. This is literally a mansion. I didn't know you're so rich."

"It's my stepdad's" I replied as I led them through the foyer. Maya paused to take in the vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed imported Persian rugs in golden light.

Priya wouldn't stop taking pictures, "for my i********: story" she'd said.

Expensive paintings—most of them from top tier artists who were no longer alive—hung around the mansion. Priya couldn't resist touching one and gushed about how only two people owned it and we happened to be one of the two. Derek wasn't that impressed, probably because this wasn't new to him. I heard he's the son of a big time politician.

"Living room's through there." I pointed. "Kitchen's that way. I'll grab snacks."

I dumped my bag by the island and opened the pantry. Cereal. Chips. Nothing healthy. Mom wasn't around. If she was, she would have cooked. I grabbed a bag of chips and turned back to the living room when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I didn't look up, but his voice came either way. "Seraphina."

He was shirtless again, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a towel draped around his neck. He must've just finished another run. His chest rose and fell with his breathing, and I forced my eyes to stay on his face.

"We have guests," I said flatly. "For the love of God, wear something. Or, are you allergic to clothes?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I see that." He wiped his face with the towel, his gaze drifting past me to the living room. "Who's the guy?"

"None of your business."

He dropped the towel onto the counter and stepped closer. "He looks at you like he wants something."

"And you look at me like I'm invisible." I shoved the bag of chips against his chest. "Pick a lane, Azriel."

He caught the bag, and his fingers brushed mine. I froze, and he smirked lacing his hands around mine.

"Seraphina?" Maya's voice floated from the living room. "You coming?"

I yanked my hand back quickly, my heart slamming in my chest. "Yeah. Coming."

"Who was that?" Derek asked when I dropped onto the couch beside him.

"My stepbrother."

"He's... intense."

"You have no idea."

Maya and Priya squealed, "he's hot," in unison, kicking their feet.

Rolling my eyes, "tell me about it."