Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother

Chapter Three: Liar

My mouth widens at his question, I want to question his audacity, but his newfound nearness permits me to see the burning anger in his gaze under the streetlights.

I have no obligation to answer him, yet my mind works feverishly at a defence.

What is this incessant need to pacify him despite his anger being none of my responsibility? Especially when his scent remains the culprit to why my centre remains moist.

I swallow dryly.

The last thought triggers my awareness of his s****l magnetism, his large build that teases at the warmth of his hold, and the startling intensity of his gaze.

I want to take a step back from him, but I am rooted in my spot by the part of me that longs to explore his features to discover how much I have missed in our time apart.

I recoil at my thoughts by turning away from him, desperate for the space to collect myself, but his hand grabs my arm and pulls my body towards his.

His hold is rough; why it thrills me can only be tied to my deviancy.

“What is it about that bastard that made you that way?”

His tone is rough and low as if his anger has melted into something else entirely—the same ‘something’ I mirrored dangerously.

“Which part of him aroused you? Or was it that you played naughty games under the table?”

When did I let him get close enough that I could smell the forest on him? That I could shudder from his warm breath against my ear as he whispered such nonsense.

"Is that something you should ask your sister?"

"Step.”

The Lycan growls in correction to my question, breaking the tension his own had cast.

My words must have pulled him back to his senses because he dropped his hold on me as if I were scalding water before taking two steps back and running his hand through his hair; the act made him look boyish. It reminded me of our days bathed in laughter, back when our relationship brought light to each other—when I could still call him Marko.

It takes less than a minute for his expression to turn fully stoic, making me doubt the bubbling heat that crossed between us, as if I were its only victim.

“The initial reason aside, the old Lycan is sick; he keeps asking for you. You should see him before he returns to the Goddess’s side.”

A laugh escapes me at his words, he means them sentimentally, but they feel like a joke.

“He is not my father, but yours. The only thing I came to Ketria with is my mother, yet she is the one thing I left without.”

His frown deepens at my response.

“Get over yourself; you both took as much as you got. He took care of you; you need to pay your respects to him.”

“You think I bear accountability towards his feelings? Towards your feelings? Even this; you stalking me, demanding my attention, invading my space, should not be happening. The only thing between us, Marko, is that we both hold some responsibility towards the death of each other’s mothers. I owe your father nothing, and you, even less. Go home.”

**

The Lycan let me walk away from him, but the fact that he now knows where I live, that he followed me, causes anxiety’s grip on my mind to tighten.

An hour had passed since he left my area of residence, but not before leaving one of his men behind. While he might claim it is for my security, I know he means to keep track of me.

I fling my duffle bag filled with bare necessities over my shoulder.

I cannot piece if he followed me because he sensed something more or if he truly wanted me to visit the old Lycan, either way, I only have the option of fleeing.

After scouting the movements of the guard left behind, I give my living room one last wistful glance before sliding through the fire escape and hailing the nearest cab to the train station.

It is ridiculous that I have to flee, that I have to uproot eight years of my life at his whims, but the risk he poses is too great.

What of the concoctions?

The thought crosses my mind inside the safety of the cab.

Were they not working? Had they forsaken me?

Violet’s clear instruction had been to consume only one per week. But…

My hesitation ceases when the memory of his rough hold pulling me into his hard frame sends delightful shivers up my spine; with a courageous breath, I down another bottle of the unpalatable concoction that burns through me.

The wave of nausea that floods through my body is the first admittance of my mistake, but as quickly as it washes over me is as quickly as the sensation fades.

“Just hurry up and die.”

I beg the beast inside me; if not for it, mother and I wouldn’t have left our initial pack, and she would never have fallen in love with Marko’s father.

All because of this damned monster.

**

The ticket in my hand trembles as sweat drips down my forehead.

I have never been to the destination on it; I only asked the ticket manager for one with the train leaving soonest. I thought the fact that the train station was deserted meant ‘soonest’ would be morning, but I was wrong; soonest was an hour.

My body’s heat rose intensely as my vision grew hazier by the minute; the sensations were frighteningly familiar, so requesting a personal cabin on the train had come easy.

I should not have taken the second dose, especially mere hours before the initial dose.

“Melvis County, ready to board on platform G.”

A voice announces repetitively, and though relief floods through me at the mild concept of privacy, I feel the familiar dawning of the crack of my bones.

Terror pierces through my spine as I stumble weakly to the correct platform; I offer my ticket to the conductor for confirmation before boarding the empty train to my cabin, only the doors shut too soon for my skittish senses to ignore.

My heart clenches at the menthol scent of pine and eucalyptus that followed the sound of the door.

I don’t know why, but tears flood my eyes at the looming despair.

“You are…entirely too predictable, Alba.”

At any other time, the words would have enticed a false bravado that I could use to talk my way out of this, but my reflection in the train windows warned me I was out of time.

My jaw hurts: the urge to stretch it is unbearable; the primal rage clawing through me yearned for me to toss my bag to the end of the path just to watch my items scatter.

The gold of my eyes was the first to give in as they reflected the lights in the station, enhancing my visions of midnight’s darkness to a degree I did not ask for.

The Lycan’s scent feels wonderfully cool against my burning flesh, he has yet to touch me, but I want to melt into him, to have him sink inside me, to have him etch his existence into me while I writhe in ecstasy.

I do not dare turn; I am not even certain I am breathing.

I should be furious that he invades my privacy again, but what I hold is more precious than my victory in an argument.

“Please…please pretend you-”

“You are my…mate?”

The interruption to my plea is as instant as my heart’s plummet to my belly.

Dropping my bag on the spot, I use every ounce of adrenaline in my system to dash towards the back of the train so I can leap onto the next segment, but he is faster, stronger than my breaking body.

His hand rams the metallic sliding door, destroying its sensor and trapping my body between the heavily dented metal and his.

The sound of my bones breaking echo through the air, and though I clench my jaw to keep from screaming at the all too familiar pain of untrained turning, there is little I can do about the tears that follow.

Why is it that he is always at the precipice of my unravelling?

But it is my fault; I should not have taken the second dose.

Of course…of course, I would cause my own demise. Just like back then…but what a cruel presence he holds, always the inciter with no willingness to bear responsibility for his inadvertent actions.

“Turning…? You have a wolf?”

The fury is evident in his growling voice as he supports my crumbling body.

I avoid the window before me and pin my gaze to the floor as my body betrays me; I do not want to see the disdain in his gaze at the Goddess’s game.

But he cruelly forces my chin, with ebony fur springing from it rapidly, to his reflection.

“You lied to me…lied to us!”

The fury on his face outweighs the disdain and confusion that laced his voice.

He does not let go of me; even as I finish my transformation, he lowers himself to my new height as a wolf.

I feel Kaisa nuzzle against his cooling hold as my consciousness recedes to give her full reigns.

I must be the only one with an untrained wolf at this age, the only one who does not share similar ideologies that would enable us to share consciousness simultaneously.

Then again, I do want her dead.

“How dare you...”

His accusation sounds distant as darkness claims me.

**

The sound of birds and the softness of silk against my flesh stir me from my dreams. The air smells crispier than usual.

Did it rain yesterday?

My hands hurt, the kind of dull pain that occurs from holding one’s position for too long, so I try to shift, but something hard and rattly holds me rigidly still.

I fuss again, but the sound only grows more persistent, so I open my eyes even though I do not wish to.

The iron bars before me jolt me into full alertness.

“No …no, no, no, no…’”

My gaze turns to my hands, but they, too, are bound to the wall.

“F*ck…f*ck! F*ck!”

A whimper escapes me as I struggle out of desperation despite an unwelcome understanding dawning on me; I am back.

Back to the very place that took everything from me.