Claimed By My Alpha Stepbrother.

12.

SERAPHINA

The house was too quiet when I got back from school the next day. Mom was usually blasting music by that time of day, screaming words that most times didn't match the lyrics.

"Mom?" I called, changing my sneakers into indoor slippers. Mom had never allowed shoes worn outside into the house.

"In here, sweetheart!" Her voice came from the dining room, bright and fluttery with nerves. "We're just finishing cocktails. Come meet your stepbrother!"

The word still sounded foreign. Stepbrother.

How did you act around a sibling, especially a brother?

I walked into the dining room expecting to see some average rich-boy pretty face. I mean, Alistair was hot. His son should at least have inherited some of those genes, right?

My supposed stepbrother had his back turned to me, laughing at something Mom was saying. I paused at the sound of his voice.

Strange.

He sounded so familiar.

"Seraphina." Mom's eyes brightened when she saw me. "I was just talking about you to Azriel. He's such a delight. You two will definitely get along."

Azriel?

Another coincidence. That name. Must be.

My stepbrother turned to face me, and I froze. The humiliation, shame, and heartbreak I'd tried to bury over the past two years resurfaced immediately.

He looked rougher, with more tattoos than I remembered, a small scar running across his throat. His eyes were blank. There was no hint of recognition in them. Instead, a small smile played on his lips.

"Azriel," Mom gestured excitedly. "This is my daughter, Seraphina. Seraphina, this is Azriel, Alistair's son."

"He's eye candy, isn't he?" Mom continued gushing over him, but her words passed in a blur as I watched the guy in front of me step forward, stretching out his hand for a formal handshake. The same hand that had spanked me raw in the front seat of his car, that had gripped my throat while he thrust into me, that had wiped tears from my face with a tenderness that had shattered my heart.

"Seraphina." His deep voice rang out—that rough velvet that had whispered filthy things in my ear, commanded me to spread my legs, called me little one while he destroyed me. His hand dropped when I didn't take his handshake, covering the awkwardness with a light laugh before slipping them back into his pockets. "Nice to meet you. Your mom wouldn't stop talking about you. You're more beautiful than I imagined."

I stared at him in disbelief, my eyes tracing the broad shoulders I still remembered digging my nails into, the short ruffled haircut different from the longer one I remembered, the black jeans, the fitted black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, displaying new tattoos that hadn't been there two years ago.

What the hell was going on?

What game was he playing?

Why was he acting like he'd never seen me before? Like he hadn't thrust into me with a hunger that had made my eyes roll back?

"Seraphina." Mom called, looking straight at me. "Don't be rude. You shouldn't reject his goodwill. He's your brother, and you guys will have to rely on each other a lot in the future."

Rude? Who the hell was being rude?

Surely not me. Because if f*****g a woman out of her senses and vanishing for two years wasn't rude enough, then definitely walking up to the same woman and acting like he couldn't remember her should have been.

"It's nothing." He laughed, waving Mom's concern away. "She's probably still trying to get her head around having a big brother."

A big brother.

I almost burst into laughter. Was he serious right then?

"Your mother was just telling me about your studies," he continued, settling into a chair. He picked up his wine glass with the same casual ease. "Dad didn't mention you were into journalism. That takes dedication."

I couldn't even force out a reply. I only watched as he laughed at Mom's joke about the neighbor's poodle and asked me about my classes—which professors did I prefer? Had I considered investigative work?—with the polite interest of a stranger making small talk.

Was I the one who was mistaken? Two years was enough time to forget how someone looked, right? Some research even said a person could make up memories in their head. Maybe my brain had forgotten how he looked and replaced it with the face of the person laughing in front of me. That had to be the only explanation. Maybe I had even forgotten his name and my brain had made that up too.

The more I thought about it, the less it made sense.

But there was no way he could have been this cool and composed in front of me unless I had the wrong person.

"Seraphina." Mom's voice cut through my thoughts. "Go wash up for dinner. Your stepdad will soon be home. We'll be having dinner together."

Dinner? Together? With this man who obviously had memory loss?

I nodded, turning around immediately and running into my room. I flopped down on the floor the moment the door clicked shut behind me.

There had to be a problem somewhere.

Tears stung the back of my eyes. He had ditched me and now couldn't remember me? That was impossible. I was sure he remembered me. There was no way he didn't.

All I had to do was prove it.

I kept my eyes on him throughout dinner.

Nothing seemed out of place.

He cut his steak with gentleness and control, nothing like the rough guy from that night. When Mom talked about inviting him to gatherings and parties, he smiled politely and replied, "You're too kind, Celeste. I'm not sure I'm country club material. I'm pretty rough around the edges."

Mom waved her hand. "Nonsense. All you need is a proper wardrobe, and you'll fit right in. I guarantee everyone will be curious to know who this young mysterious gentleman is."

A soft laugh escaped him. "Then I'll try my best not to disappoint."

I couldn't breathe.

His actions only proved I was just a stranger to him. His father's stepdaughter whom he was seeing for the first time.

"Seraphina? You're not eating, sweetheart. Are you not feeling okay?" Mom's voice was filled with concern, all attention now focused on me.

"I'm fine," I lied, pushing salmon around my plate. "Just tired. Long day."

Azriel glanced at me. His eyes were blank. "You should rest. I remember college being exhausting."

Alistair nodded. "You should let us know if you're having any issues. We'll sort it out for you."

I stabbed my salmon harder, feeling nauseous. "I'm truly okay. I think I'll just go to bed. That should do the trick."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "You're leaving dinner? You didn't even eat much."

"No appetite," I lied, already standing up. "And I have homework to do."

"But—"

"Don't worry, Mom," I cut in. "I'll probably be fine tomorrow morning. Just enjoy dinner without me. It wouldn't be nice to waste such good salmon."

I flashed a tight smile that I hoped did the trick and hurried back upstairs.

I paused when I got to the top of the stairs and waited, straining my ears. Now that I wasn't there, he would probably drop the whole pretense.

I waited and waited, but everything still seemed normal.

The sound of his laughter echoed, mingling with my mother's delighted giggles.

"It's so fun to be around you, Celeste," he said. "Home is so nice now with you."

Mom blushed at his words, and I pressed my forehead against the wall.

Maybe it really wasn't him.

Maybe I was just a stupid, desperate girl making up images in my head.

I crept to my room, locked the door, and sat on my bed in the dark.

This was all his fault.

I wouldn't have been going crazy if not for him.

Damn you.

You f*****g hot one-night stand.