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. Seeing how he gradually occupied such an important place in my mother's life provoked a rejection in me that I couldn't even fully explain.

My opinion, evidently, didn't prevent 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, right.

A happy family...

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

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

Eryx Dacre.



I disliked him practically from the very first moment.

He was curt, distant, and reserved. He only answered 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 hated that absurd coexistence as much as I did.

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

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

But his looks were another negative thing given the circumstances.

He was my stepbrother.

Damn it. Even in that I was unlucky.

In short, our parents had had a terrible idea.

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

The real problem began at night.

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

Dull thuds.

The headboard of his bed occasionally banging against the wall.

Heavy breathing.

And a few low, sporadic moans that stopped as quickly as they started.

At first I tried to ignore it.

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

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 up again.

A sharp thud comes through the wall.

I open my eyes and lie still between the sheets, staring at the darkness of my room.

For a few seconds I hear nothing.

Then the headboard hits the wall again.

Then comes a deep, ragged breath.

I press my lips together.

It's none of my business.

I turn over and try to close my eyes.

Another thud.

A low, muffled moan.

I open them again.

It's none of my business.

I repeat the phrase mentally several times, but curiosity eventually overcomes my common sense.

I push back the covers, 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 this, but a ninja nonetheless.

When I reach Eryx's door, I look both ways to make sure 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 in a little closer.

Then another thud against the headboard sounds.

A deep moan.

And a strange, slow, harsh noise, like fingernails scratching some surface.

What the hell is he doing in there?

I press my ear harder against the wood.

The door suddenly opens.

I lose my support and my body tilts forward.

I manage to stop myself before falling and slowly lift my gaze.

Eryx stands before me.

He is barefoot, 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 usual cold, unreadable expression.

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

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

My mind searches for a reasonable explanation.

It finds none.

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

"Have you finished listening… or were you planning to come in?"