The Incest

Chapter seven

Cora’s POV

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give me answers. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. Xavier was everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. His voice, his smirk, the way he leaned against things like he belonged in every room in the house—it all replayed in my head on a loop, like some cruel montage.

I wanted to groan. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw my pillow across the room and pretend I didn’t care. Instead… I felt ridiculous. Vulnerable. Exposed.

I grabbed my notebook and tried to force myself to focus, scribbling nonsense equations and half-finished sentences, hoping the act of writing would ground me. But every scratch of the pen reminded me of his presence—the way he’d leaned closer yesterday, the way his hand had brushed my hair.

The house was quiet now, the kind of quiet that made every small sound echo. Footsteps. A door closing. The faint hum of the chandelier lights. My chest tightened at each one. I was hyper-aware of everything, and yet… somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

A soft knock. My heart jumped.

“Studying?”

I groaned, not even bothering to look up. “Yep,” I said flatly, forcing calm.

He leaned against the frame, that damn smirk teasing as always. “Uh-huh. Sure. Totally studying.” His voice was light, teasing, but my stomach twisted anyway.Ughhhh.

I kept my head down, trying to focus on the notebook, on the words, anything. Outwardly, nothing. Inside… a goddamn tornado.

“You know,” he said softly, just enough to make me flinch, “you can’t hide from me. Not that I’d want you to.”

My chest tightened. My hands shook slightly. “I’m… fine,” I muttered, barely audible.

He smirked and leaned back, finally leaving, gliding down the hallway like he owned the place. My heart thumped so hard I thought it would burst.

I sank onto my bed, exhausted, frustrated, alive in a way that terrified me. The house was too big, too shiny, too much. And Xavier… he was everywhere. Impossible. Infuriating. Maddening.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

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By the next morning, I had adopted an extreme survival strategy: avoid all common areas, avoid hallways, and pray Xavier was elsewhere. Breakfast was a silent, tense affair. I sat at the far end of the long dining table, shoving food onto my plate, eyes firmly on the tablecloth, heart racing whenever anyone else made a noise.

Predictably, halfway through my eggs, Xavier appeared. Sliding into the chair across from me, smirk in full effect, as if the universe had assigned him the sole task of ruining my composure.

“You’re quiet,” he said, voice casual, tone laced with amusement. “Tense?”

“I am not tense,” I said, voice sharp, though it cracked slightly.

“Sure you’re not.” He leaned back, eyes scanning me like a cat watching a mouse. “You’re… adorable when you try to act normal.”

I wanted to hit him. With my fork. Hard. Instead, I muttered, “Step-brother, boundaries. Remember them?”

“Oh, I remember,” he said smoothly, smirk widening. “I just… choose to ignore them.”

I groaned, shoving eggs into my mouth faster than humanly necessary. Each bite felt like a victory lap in a race I had no chance of winning.

---

After breakfast, I tried to escape to the library. Surely, he would be in his room, or the garden, or—anywhere but here.

Of course, he wasn’t. He was leaning against the library doorframe like some infuriating statue of mischief, smirk perfectly poised.

“Predictable,” he said simply. “Trying to hide in the library?”

“I am not predictable,” I hissed, shoving past him, though my legs felt like rubber.

He caught my elbow lightly. “Uh-huh. Sure you aren’t.” He grinned like he had the most delicious secret in the world. “You’re tense. Nervous. Flustered. Cute.”

“Step-brother!” I shouted, shoving him again. “You’re impossible!”

“And you… are adorable when you lose control,” he countered, voice teasing.

My cheeks burned. I wanted to vanish. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.

I bolted toward a table, hiding behind stacks of books, hoping my carefully plotted escape would finally work. My chest pounded. My head spun.

He didn’t move. He just leaned against a bookshelf, smirk still in place, watching me like a cat watching a bird flit around the cage.

“You know,” he said softly, voice low, teasing yet somehow intimate, “you can’t avoid me forever. I’ll find you.”

I groaned and buried my face in a book.

---

The rest of the day was a blur of carefully calculated avoidance strategies. I scuttled down corridors, clung to walls, ducked behind pillars. I hid in the kitchen, hoping he’d be elsewhere. I hid in the garden, convinced the hedges were my allies.

But no matter what I did… Xavier found a way.

A laugh from behind a pillar. A shadow across the marble floor. A casual smirk appearing in the doorway of the study. Each encounter was brief. Each encounter made my stomach twist and my cheeks burn. Each encounter reminded me how thoroughly he had broken through my careful, invisible armor.

By evening, I was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally. I collapsed into my bed, hugging my pillow, heart still hammering from every single moment of the day.

I hated him. I hated how he made me feel. I hated that he could make me feel… something dangerously close to… longing, or whatever the hell this was.

And yet… somewhere deep inside, I knew that no matter how much I tried, no matter how far I ran, no matter how many books I hid behind, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Xavier had won.

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