Eryx

Years ago, my father died in an accident.

Since then, my mother tried to rebuild her life as best she could. For a long time it was just her and me, until she met Draven Dacre.

Draven never treated me badly or tried to replace my father, but accepting his presence wasn't easy. Watching him gradually take such an important place in my mother's life provoked a rejection in me that I couldn't even fully explain.

My opinion, obviously, didn't stop their relationship from moving forward.

A few months ago, my mother and Draven decided to take the big step: all of us moving into the same house and trying to become a happy family.

Yeah, sure.

A happy family...

Because forcing several people who barely know each other to share a roof always turns out wonderfully well.

And, as if the situation weren't already uncomfortable enough, Draven had a son a couple of years older than me.

Eryx Dacre.



I disliked him practically from the first moment.

He was curt, distant, and reserved. He answered only what was strictly necessary, rarely took part in family conversations, and seemed to observe everything from the outside, as if that new life had absolutely nothing to do with him.

All the qualities I disliked most gathered in a single person.

Although, to be fair, Eryx probably detested that absurd living arrangement as much as I did.

What annoyed me most was that, looking at him completely objectively, Eryx seemed far too attractive to me.

He had a dark, striking appearance, with long black and silver hair, tattoos peeking out along his neck and arms, black-painted nails, and that serious expression that seemed to warn everyone not to come near.

But his appearance was another negative thing given the circumstances.

He was my stepbrother.

Damn it. I even had bad luck with that.

In short, our parents had had a terrible idea.

During the day we managed to ignore each other relatively easily. Each of us stayed in our own space, and the few conversations we had usually ended with a curt response, an unpleasant look, or an awkward silence.

The real problem began at night.

Our rooms were next to each other, and for some time I had been hearing strange noises through the wall.

Muffled thuds.

The headboard of his bed occasionally hitting the wall.

Heavy breathing.

And some low, sporadic gasps that stopped as quickly as they began.

At first I tried to ignore it.

What Eryx did locked in his room was none of my business.

Absolutely none.

Besides, the last thing I needed was for him to think I was curious about him.

But that night the sounds wake me again.

A sharp thud cuts through the wall.

I open my eyes and lie motionless among the sheets, staring into the darkness of my room.

For a few seconds I hear nothing.

Then the headboard hits the wall again.

Then comes a deep, uneven breathing.

I press my lips together.

It's none of my business.

I turn over and try to close my eyes.

Another thud.

A low, restrained gasp.

I open them again.

It's none of my business.

I repeat the phrase mentally several times, but curiosity ends up defeating my common sense.

I push aside the blankets, get out of bed, and carefully open my bedroom door.

The house is completely silent.

I cross the hallway barefoot, trying not to make noise.

I'm in ninja mode.

A ridiculous ninja, in pajamas and with no valid reason to be doing that, but a ninja nonetheless.

When I reach Eryx's room, I look both ways to check that no one has seen me.

I could go back to my bed...

I should go back to my bed...

Instead, I tilt my head and slowly press my ear against the door.

At first I hear nothing.

I frown and lean a little closer.

Then another thud sounds against the headboard.

A deep gasp.

And a strange, slow, rough noise, like nails scratching some surface.

What the hell is he doing in there?

I press my ear a little harder against the wood.

The door suddenly opens.

I lose my balance and my body tilts forward.

I manage to stop myself before falling and slowly look up.

Eryx stands in front of me.

He's barefoot, with his long black and silver hair completely disheveled and a dark T-shirt slightly clinging to his chest.

His breathing is still uneven.

His knuckles are reddened and there are small scratches around his black nails, but his face keeps that same cold, unreadable expression as always.

His eyes slowly travel over my posture and then return to my face.

I stay completely motionless, my head still tilted toward the place where, just a second earlier, the door had been.

My mind searches for some reasonable explanation.

It doesn't find any.

Eryx leans one shoulder against the doorframe and slightly raises an eyebrow.

"Are you done listening... or were you planning to come in?"