Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother
Chapter 221
“I see it in your eyes. I feel it every time you breathe my name, like you’re trying not to. And I know you’ll admit it one day.”
His thumb slowly brushed my cheek again, like he was memorizing me.
“That’s why I’m patient with you.”
My lips parted, but nothing came out.
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Because how do you speak when someone is looking at you like you’re all they’ve ever wanted? How do you breathe when the person you tried so hard to keep out has already taken root. beneath your skin?
He was everywhere.
In my chest. In my thoughts. In the ache between my ribs.
ribs. like
His thumb kept tracing slow, agonizing lines across my cheek like he was trying to soothe something inside me–something he didn’t realize he was the one tearing open.
“I’m patient with you, little sister,” he whispered again.
It almost broke me.
I hated how my body responded. How my chest tightened, my throat ached and my lips nearly parted to say the words he had always wanted to hear me say.
But I couldn’t.
This… us… it was always meant to fall apart. From the beginning, it was doomed. And the longer I let him in, the harder it would be to crawl out of the wreckage.
So I took in a shaky breath, reached up, and gently pulled his hand away from my face.
His brows drew together. “Kasmine-?”
“I could never love you,” I said flatly.
A lie.
It tasted like ash in my mouth.
His eyes darkened, and I saw the flare of hurt flash across his face.
“Don’t,” he said softly, dangerously. “Don’t say that.”
But I didn’t stop.
“I’m being realistic, Kester. You should try it sometime.” I forced my arms to cross over my chest again as if that could hold everything in. “In
days, I’ll find my mate. Or maybe I’ll end up with my betrothed. Either way, this thing between us–it ends.”
“So. He stepped forward again, jaw clenching. “No, you don’t get instand there and
“Yes, I do!” I snapped, my voice cracking like thin ice under pressure “I have to. Because if I don’t… I’ll… I’ll…” I swallowed the
Chapter 221
words.
‘Til fall deeper…”
But those words were enough to unravel Rester. I couldn’t let him get the slightest hint that I had fallen for him. It would be his
ruin.
He looked like I had slapped him.
I wanted to turn away–because staring into those stormy eyes while I said this felt like self–mutilation—but I didn’t. I owed him the dignity of my gaze.
“I know what this has been for you,” I said, my tone growing softer now and bitter at the edges. “Something wild. Something thrilling. But it’s not love. Not feally. It’s… adrenaline. A forbidden fruit. A distraction.”
His chest rose. “Don’t. Don’t reduce it like that.”
“And you-” I swallowed hard. “You don’t get to break June’s heart just because you think you can. If you go through with this engagement… then go through with the marriage, too. Don’t come looking for me afterward. Don’t knock on my door at midnight or call my name like it still belongs to you. Because once you put that ring on her finger, Kester, it’s over.”
His face contorted, pain bleeding into fury. “That’s not fair. I just need time to-”
“I don’t care,” I whispered, lying through my teeth. “Four more days, Kester. That’s all we have left to drown in this secret of ours. You have every right to my body for the next four days. So, enjoy the thrill while it lasts. But know this-” I took a breath so sharp it nearly cut my lungs, “-once you’re engaged, I will never let you anywhere near me again.”
Silence.
He stood there, his whole body vibrating with emotion that I was sure he didn’t know where to place.
And I just stared at him, even as my vision blurred with the tears I refused to shed.
My heart was screaming, ‘Tell him you love him.‘
But my mouth wouldn’t dare betray me.
Because love was reckless.
And love with him was ruin.
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Chapter 222
across from my desk, arms crossed while his posture was stiff with confusion or concern–I couldn’t tell which, and I didn’t care enough to ask
My phone buzzed on the table,
I didn’t look at it immediately. The vibration skittered across the surface like an insect, and it irritated me to my core.
I already knew who it was. This was the sixth time this morning I was getting a text.
I finally dragged my gaze to the screen to see what she had said this time around.
June: What should I wear for dinner tonight? I’m thinking that blue dress your mother said made me look ‘respectable…
My jaw ticked. I didn’t answer.
She was talking about the dinner my parents had planned–one of those performative family gatherings to make June feel like she was already part of the family legacy. A pre–engagement, pre–dowry, pre–prison celebration. It felt more like a funeral with wine and fake laughter because that’s all it would be for mě.
The phone buzzed again.
This time, she was calling.
I ignored the call with a hiss.
It rang again immediately like she had been poised with her thumb above the call button, ready for my rejection.
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